tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60775854610960497582024-03-12T19:08:20.262-04:00Evernight First ChaptersPreview the first chapter of an Evernight or Evernight Teen book each week!Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-48893917589627108402019-09-23T12:13:00.002-04:002019-09-23T12:13:57.099-04:00CHAPTER ONE ~ Free Read: Hard-Pressed by Queenie Black<div class="page" title="Page 4">
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<span style="font-family: TODADEMO; font-size: 18pt;">HARD-PRESSED</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,BoldItalic"; font-size: 14pt;">Club Hard, 1</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Queenie Black Copyright © 2019</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Chapter One </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Rose</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Club Hard</i><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Private Members Only</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Bloody hell</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>.</i> A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Can I help you?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“May I take your coat?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Your coat, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">ma petite</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Monsieur</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">ma belle perle</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>No, of course, I’m not ready</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>.</i> Instead, I said, “Bring it on.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien’s sharp gaze zeroed in on my hands which were clasped tightly at my waist to hide their faint tremor, and I was reminded that nothing escaped this man’s notice. Thankfully, all he said was, “Follow me.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He led me out of the hall and through an oak-paneled reception area, nodding briefly at the man behind the desk. Then we were in a short corridor where I noted the doors were marked with locker room and toilet symbols. A man wearing a uniform that identified him as housekeeping staff exited what looked like a broom closet. I nodded at him, but he missed it, his gaze fixed on Lucien’s</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">back. The hairs on my neck prickled. Man, if ever someone’s look needed to be classified as poisonous, it was his.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">At the end of the corridor, Lucien pushed a large, carved wooden door open and indicated I should precede him. I stepped through and stopped short, my mild apprehension segueing into deeper anxiety.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">The room, which seemed to extend along the whole of the back of the building, was filled with the sound of edgy music. The throb of it vibrated through the soles of my bare feet and the air was heavy with groans, mixed with the slaps and thuds of impact toys. Cleaning products provided a base note for polish, leather, and sex and combined, the scents created a visceral reaction in me that made my nipples perk up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Roped-off play areas and other sections, some very public, some giving the illusion of privacy, were full of mysterious equipment that sent shivers of wary anticipation up my spine. In one of them, a Dom in leather trousers secured his naked sub to an X- shaped cross.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Chr ... criminy</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>. </i>Ingrained habit made me swallow back the swear words even when I was only thinking them. My boss, the owner of Eagle Protection Services, was particular that we shouldn’t swear. He didn’t want us offending any of the princesses, did he? But man, that room filled me with a strange mix of feelings. I took a step back and came up against Lucien’s hard frame. He drew me more closely into his body, circling my waist with one arm, and his heat and sheer physical presence grounded me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Easy, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>chérie</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, you’ve seen this before. Calm down.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I tried, gulping in breaths laden with his spicy cologne. He was right, I had seen this sort of thing before. In the nine months I’d protected Lucien, I’d caught some glimpses of him sceneing with subs. I’d also done enough internet research to fill in most of the gaps in my knowledge. None of it prepared me for the reality, the raw, primal sexuality of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Evening, Lucien.” A Domme sauntered past, leading her female sub on a chain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Stop being a wimp</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>.</i> I straightened my spine and Lucien gave my arms a quick squeeze that felt like approval.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Just to my left, a gleaming oval bar hummed with customers, and subs carried trays of drinks, flitting to and from seating areas like </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">hummingbirds. Against one wall, a full buffet table provided a hub where people chatted and helped themselves to food. A Domme fed morsels from her plate to the male sub kneeling at her feet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">At the bar, Lucien indicated a stool. “Sit.”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I obeyed, muttering, “Woof,” under my breath.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Did you say something?”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shook my head, taken aback by how his expression had</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">chilled, but at the same time, amazed at how it set off a quiver deep in my core. I placed my hand on my abdomen to still it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“What can I get you, Lucien?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I huffed a silent breath of relief as Lucien turned his attention to the bartender. A second later, when I saw who the bartender was, I did a double-take.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Your </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>brother</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">?” I whisper-yelled at Lucien.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He shrugged. “Why not?”</span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Why not?</i> </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Because his brother, or to be precise, his half-</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">brother, was a freakin’ Lord, an Earl of somewhere or other. Their father had been a very naughty young man and had ended up marrying the English girl who he’d gotten into trouble rather than the French one, even though both women had been from the same sort of upper social class. He’d acknowledged both boys though, and Lucien had grown up with all the advantages of being a Lord’s son and none of the disadvantages, such as crumbling estates and </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">heritage, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">to worry about. As young men fresh out of university, the brothers had gone into business together and now had a very successful line of seriously elite kink clubs and a huge chain of less-contentious spa and gyms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I stared at this aristocratic barman who was also Lucien’s brother, trying to dig his name out of my memory while a whole lot of thoughts went whizzing through my head. I’d have had to be dead not to notice his air of authority and his good looks. Other than the nose and eye color, he and Lucien were very similar. Calthorpe! That was it. George Julian Humphrey Calthorpe. The file on Lucien, which we had all seen when we took him on as a client, contained some basic information on his brother too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Calthorpe smiled at me and said, “There’s no need to feel uncomfortable.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m not uncomfortable,” I shot back, unhappy at being seen in any way vulnerable, “I’m just wondering if I should curtsy.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">His expression darkened at my sass, all his previous warmth </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">disappearing, and I sucked in a breath at the sudden chill. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Ignoring me now, which felt distinctly better, Calthorpe </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">addressed his next comment to Lucien. “New subbie? I’ve not seen her around before but she looks familiar.” His gaze assessed me, lingering over my body. When it reached my face, I met his stare head-on with a frown to let him know I didn’t approve of his blatant appraisal. Instead of being intimidated, amusement lightened his expression and he said, “Looks like she needs some training.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“When you last saw her, she was my bodyguard.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“That’s where I know her from.” His gaze sharpened on me again. “Not your normal type, is she?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I should have felt irritation at the way he was discussing me. Instead, a sliver of hurt wormed its way into my heart. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Not your normal type</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">... Okay, so I didn’t fit Lucien’s usual mold. I didn’t need anyone to rub that in. Firstly, it was rude and secondly, it was obvious. The truth was that compared to all the subs, usually Disney- princess types, I’d ever seen Lucien with, I was more like Mrs. Shrek, except without the green. A bit harsh maybe, but a girl had to recognize her limitations, and at six-feet tall and ripped—yes, I did actually have the whole eight pack happening—I didn’t look the part. I was fit and I worked as a bodyguard, and in my spare time, I did MMA. That tended to mean kicking the shit out of opponents, not watching other people do it, and it meant I did intimidating, rather than pretty or sexy. In fact, I didn’t really do sex at all anymore. Finding a man who wasn’t scared to date a woman who could whoop his ass one-handed was difficult and usually not worth the effort. Sex was overrated, in my opinion. It was boring and messy, and to put it bluntly, the juice just wasn’t worth the squeeze.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien was the only man who’d tempted me in the last two or three years, but he came with a hell of a lot of kink.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Could I live with that or, more to the point, could he live without it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">That was the question I was here to find the answer to. “Rose.”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien’s voice broke in on my thoughts. I scowled. I hate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">people calling me Rose.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Call me Ro,” I said automatically and then when I focused on </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien and saw his expression, quickly added, “Sir.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Well recovered, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>ma perle</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>,</i> but you know the rules. Where </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">should a sub’s attention be at all times?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I swore my core did this involuntary clenching thing at his </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">stern look, and my nipples bunched. It took me by surprise and I hated it and liked it at the same time. It was nice to know I wasn’t dead sexually from the neck down. On the other hand, if this kinky lark was turning me on, that meant Lucien might be right. He believed I was submissive and that was what tonight was all about. Him proving I was, and me proving I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be submissive, because I reckoned being submissive made me fundamentally weak and I couldn’t afford to be weak. So having my body come alive and proving me wrong wasn’t part of the plan.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Okay, I was confused, so what? No one ever said it was simple.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Rose, where should your attention be?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">His annoyed tone drew me back with a start and I tried to focus on answering his question. “Umm, on my Dom?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“And who is that, Rose?”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I glared at his repeated use of my full name.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Lose the look.” Lucien’s silky tone held a clear warning and </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">when I cast a quick glance at his face, his brows were drawn together. Yup, I’d managed to seriously piss him off. I didn’t like the feeling of letting him down, so I forced my facial muscles into something less confrontational.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“That’s better, now answer my question.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I scrabbled around in what was left of my brain and said, “You?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I like the question mark on the end,” Calthorpe said with a grin. “She sounds as if she isn’t sure.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“No worries, Cal, she’ll be very sure by the time the evening ends.” There was a delicious threat in his words that made me do a little wriggle on the barstool. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to find a bit of relief from the growing ache.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Uh-uh.” Lucien shook his head at me. “Spread those thighs. You need to be fully accessible to your Master at all times.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I looked around to check if anyone was watching and damn if Lucien didn’t read my thoughts. He caught my chin. “It doesn’t matter if anyone else is watching. I should be your only concern right now. I’m getting tired of your inattention and disobedience. Continue like this and there will be a punishment before the evening is over.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I parted my thighs a little to placate him, and he nodded encouragingly. “That’s better, but it’s not enough. Spread them further or you will be punished.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Punishment? My lungs constricted, and I sucked in a panicked breath. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Uh-oh. No</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>.</i> Quickly, I obeyed, spreading my thighs as widely as I could, hooking my ankles around the legs of the stool. My skirt rode up and, aware that I was flashing the world, I tried to smooth it down. It didn’t work, and the skirt kept rolling back up. Thank heavens I’d put on a thong, otherwise, there’d have been no end to what I was showing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien’s smile at my skirt quandary dropped. “What is that?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Hot color flooded my face when I saw where he was looking, and I hid my embarrassment under sass, pulling a </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Duh! </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">face. “A thong.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Thankfully, he ignored my grimace. “Did I specify underwear?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“No.”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Then why are you wearing it?”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I figured you must have forgotten to include it.”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">The brief deepening of the lines that bracketed Lucien’s mouth </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">hinted at amusement but his voice remained unyielding as he commanded, “Remove them now, Rose.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shook my head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien turned to Cal, who was following keenly from his place behind the bar. “Do you have a knife behind there?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Sure.” Cal handed over the small, plastic-handled serrated blade he’d been using to slice lemons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien flowed off his barstool in one graceful movement. “Stand up,” he instructed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I hesitated, eyeing his knife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You have two seconds, Rose. If you don’t obey, you’ll lose the skirt as well as the thong.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I obeyed, pleased that at least my own movements were graceful too. It seemed all those martial arts I did had extra benefits. I smoothed the skirt back down my thighs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Raise your skirt.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“What?” I’d just lowered the damn thing and he wanted me to raise it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien sighed and turned to Cal. “She’s questioning me again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">What do you suggest?”<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Hmm, let’s see.” Cal rubbed his chin. “She’s had one </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">warning already so I’d chalk up three, I think.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Three? Three what?</i> </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Are you talking about spanking?” My </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">voice squeaked embarrassingly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Your only acceptable response is, ‘Yes, Monsieur.’” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Uh-oh, I was meant to give instant obedience and here I was </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">digging in my heels and being mouthy again. “Yes, Monsieur,” I said meekly and raised my skirt until it just uncovered my lower cheeks, which wasn’t very far since it was super-short anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I might have allowed that,” Lucien said, harshly, “but your disobedience means now you’re going to pull it right up until it’s around your waist.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Keeping all my swear words tucked safely behind my teeth because I was in enough trouble already, I pulled the stupid thing up as high as he ordered, doing it sharply like tearing off a Band-Aid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">A satisfied look settled on Lucien’s face at my obedience and he shifted me out from the cover of the barstools with one large hand framing my hip, exposing my nearly naked butt to anyone who happened to be walking by. My face went scarlet and my insides clenched.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>No way!</i> </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I closed my eyes against the realization. How did I not know this about myself? I didn’t want to be turned on by being put on display, but dammit, I was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Eyes on me, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>chérie</i></span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>.</i>”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien’s voice had that deep Dom command to it and my eyes popped open before I could even think about it. He caught my gaze briefly and his look was so full of predatory intent and promise, it rocked me back on my heels and made me lightheaded. While I was recovering, he slid the blade under the elastic at my hip. The cold, blunt back of it dragged against my skin as the fabric gave. Shivers radiated out from where smooth metal touched me, hyper-sensitizing my skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Now the other side.” When he’d cut both sides, he sent the knife spinning back across the bar to Cal who dropped it in the sink before moving on to serve another customer. The only thing holding my underwear up was the pressure from my thighs, which I’d clamped together, and the thin piece of fabric separating my cheeks, which I’d also clamped together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lucien made me the focus of his attention again. “Spread your thighs.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">When I didn’t move fast enough or spread them wide enough, he gave my thigh a little two-fingered warning tap of encouragement. “Wider.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I obeyed reluctantly, and he slowly and deliberately tugged my panties loose, sliding the white lace between my cheeks and over the tender flesh between my legs. Shivers and sparks danced across my skin, raising goosebumps. I couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Download HARD-PRESSED here:</span><br />
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-61360837258854037722019-09-21T21:49:00.000-04:002019-09-21T21:49:32.077-04:00Chapter One Preview: THE BIGFOOT MURDERS by Megan Gaudino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8htrfYc9Bt7-9Jm6jk-1qTgkCpSfji5hN4pTYHQ8q0ESVOKz00ekEmLSlkL7XemN-9KB22QMR0QJte90A9CizwH0jleuzHypyCwtR8qHtvaS_WaskDhkFqo_ytSVmVGj-t7oSE-AMuMg/s1600/the+bigfoot+murders-banner2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="851" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8htrfYc9Bt7-9Jm6jk-1qTgkCpSfji5hN4pTYHQ8q0ESVOKz00ekEmLSlkL7XemN-9KB22QMR0QJte90A9CizwH0jleuzHypyCwtR8qHtvaS_WaskDhkFqo_ytSVmVGj-t7oSE-AMuMg/s400/the+bigfoot+murders-banner2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>THE BIGFOOT MURDERS</b></span></div>
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<i>"</i><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: #111111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i>I absolutely loved this book! It is the perfect (and unexpected) combination of Bigfoot & romance. I’ve been a fan of all of Megan Gaudino's books and this one does not disappoint!"</i> ~ 5 STAR AMAZON REVIEW</span></div>
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Megan Gaudino Copyright © 2019</div>
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Chapter One</div>
<br />I leaned against the painted, cinderblock wall like if I wasn’t standing there to hold it up, the whole place would collapse. That could’ve been partially true. Chunks of crumbled cement littered the floor like piles of sand.<br /><br />My nerves had gotten the best of me, making my movements jittery. I joined Brooke on the narrow bench and tried to keep my knees from bouncing up and down. She didn’t look nervous, braiding and then unbraiding her hair while we waited for the news that would shape the rest of our lives.<br /><br />Internships were limited to begin with, and the candidate who landed it ended up in a similar, if not the exact same position ninety percent of the time. Being in the other ten percent, the failed percent, wasn’t an option for me. I wanted better.<br /><br />Pappy Law deserved better.<br /><br />Detective Drew Witherall had been in his office for way too long. The decision should’ve been easy for him. I was the obvious choice. I was the one who spent all my free time at the station. I was the one who read true crime novels faster than they could be written. I was the one who had a legacy to fulfill. And, I didn’t want to throw my name around, but I was the only Holly who applied.<br /><br />When I felt like I couldn’t wait a second longer, the door creaked open and Detective Witherall stepped out.<br /><br />“Fiona.” He scratched at his neatly trimmed beard. “You can come in now.”<br /><br />I glanced at Brooke before I stood up, to check her reaction and see the defeat in her eyes. As I crossed the hall, Detective Witherall held the door open, forcing me to squeeze past him in the cramped space.<br /><br />“Have a seat.” He gestured to the folding chair across from his desk and let the door close.<br /><br />I sat on my hands to keep them from shaking as I imagined how I’d celebrate. My application sat on his desk, poking out from under Brooke’s. Why was hers on top?<br /><br />“Fiona.” He dropped into his chair, stirring up dust motes in the light from the window behind him. “You and Brooke are both strong candidates, and I know you’d work your ass off for this, but...” He trailed off, shifting in his seat like he was waiting for me to finish for him. When I didn’t, he added, “I had to go with Brooke. I don’t know what to say.”<br /><br />I sat there staring at him, his face resembling a Ken doll’s when my eyes filled with tears. Speaking wasn’t an option. I’d cry if I spoke, and Drew seeing me cry would only make his decision not to choose me more valid. My arms and legs stuck to the chair as if they were filled with lead. If I could’ve just stood up, nodded, and walked out, I could’ve at least saved face. But I didn’t do that.<br /><br />“You could start by saying what I did wrong.” When a tear squeezed out, I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Drew was polite enough to ignore it.<br /><br />“Nothing. You know how much I enjoy you spending time down here with me and the guys, and you’ve been a big help, but I have to be serious about my interns. Hell, no one was more serious about them than Law. I had to go with my gut, who I thought would be the best, and that was Brooke.”<br /><br />“Brooke is supposed to be setting curlers at the Chatter Box, not down here solving crimes with you. What will the MacIvers think when their only daughter tells them she wants to be a cop?”<br /><br />Drew’s lip turned up in one corner. “They’ll think the same thing your grandfather thought when your dad wanted to become a teacher. Can you blame her for wanting to get into something more exciting?”<br /><br />“Yes,” I snapped.<div>
<br />“Well, then maybe you can work at the salon.” His eyes narrowed.<br /><br />My fingers reached for the golf pencil tied around my neck with a leather strap. I always wore it and kept a notepad in my pocket, in case I needed to write down clues for a case, because Pappy Law used to do that. Because I was the better choice for the internship. Brooke didn’t even take notes in class.<br /><br />“So this is what the death of a dream feels like.” I pushed up from the chair. Drew stood too, planting his hands on his belt. “It really, really sucks. You know I’m the better choice.”<br /><br />“I do know, Fiona. And I know how bad you want to be a detective. That’s why I’m doing this. Your pap thought you hung the moon, which is nice and all for you, but it didn’t make you hungry. Use this disappointment to push you to work harder. I wouldn’t have solved those murders if I wasn’t pushed so hard when I was younger, and I’m doing the same for you.”<br /><br />My hunger clawed at my stomach with iron talons and kept me up at night. My hunger murmured a rumble of resentment at my father for not following in the Holly family footsteps of joining the force. My hunger led me to promise Pappy Law, on his deathbed, that I would follow in his footsteps.<br /><br />Drew knew nothing of hunger, and it wasn’t worth explaining it to him.<br /><br />I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, fought my eye roll, and nodded.<br /><br />“Thanks.”<br /><br />I stood, but the whole office tilted left and my lungs struggled to inflate like punctured balloons. I blinked. Hard. The tears had to stay inside but everything inside was on fire.<br /><br />When I opened the door to leave, Drew said, “I hope to still see you around, Fiona.”<br /><br />Brooke looked up as soon as I stepped in the hall, a small smile on her lips, surely hearing what he just said. Drew wouldn’t see me around. I wasn’t going to file his papers and play his secretary while Brooke got to do all the fun stuff. I ignored him.<br /><br />“Congratulations,” I told Brooke.<br /><br />Pappy Law’s picture hung by the doors. I swore he wore a little frown that wasn’t there before. I swore I’d do whatever I could to change that.<br /><br />The sun slowly warmed everything all afternoon, gearing up for the approaching summer, but the heat hardly touched me. Everything was different, like it was happening to someone else. I wasn’t going to be the Ridgeview Prep student with the internship at the station. Everything I wanted, everything I worked for, everything I was meant to be had been ripped from me and sat in Brooke’s neatly manicured hands.<br /><br />Degan waited at the end of the sidewalk. He stood in a patch of shade cast by an oak tree with a huge smile on his face and bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand. He remembered. Even without me telling him.<br /><br />“So?” His long, dark hair got caught up in the wind and covered half his face. He brushed it back, revealing the full charm of his umber eyes.<br /><br />“Brooke got it.” That was easier to say than I didn’t get it.<br /><br />“Are you doing the old fake-out trick?” He laughed and held out the yellow and orange flowers. I took them from him, the gesture meaning as much to me as if they were diamonds.<br /><br />“No.”<br /><br />Degan’s smile finally faded as he realized I was telling the truth. “I’m sorry, Fi.”<br /><br />I shrugged like it didn’t matter, like I didn’t care. Like my future hadn’t just turned to ash. “It’s okay.”<br /><br />“No, it’s not. You worked really hard for this. You deserve this. I don’t understand why it’s not you.”<br /><br />“Yeah, well, me either.” I glanced back at the station. The loss of my dream made the building seem so far away, or maybe that was just because my goal was far away. My fingers grew restless as my heart beat with hallow purpose.<br /><br />I promised Pappy Law. I promised myself.<br /><br />“We should go talk to him.” Degan side-stepped me to head back toward the station. “Brooke didn’t even want it. She only applied because she wanted to piss off her mom. She said she was going to work at the salon. She said she wants to work at the salon. She said this sounded the easiest.”<br /><br />My blood finally reached the boiling point, my tears turning to steam that fueled my anger.<br /><br />“Degan.” I grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle tug. “You can’t go in there and demand Detective Witherall change his mind.”</div>
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<br />He stopped walking but studied the station like he was going to try anyway. “But he made the wrong choice. You’re a better detective than he is already.”</div>
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<br />“Thanks for saying that, but you can’t go in there.”</div>
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<br />“Yeah.” He nodded and brought his gaze back to me. “I guess not.<br /><br />It’s not fair though. You’re a Holly. It’d be like someone telling me I couldn’t work on my own family’s farm.”<br /><br />An unexpected jealousy pulled at my thoughts. Degan’s family had kept his farm for longer than anyone had record of and no one could stop him tending to it.<br /><br />“No. It’s not fair. And yeah, it would be.” I brought the flowers to my nose and inhaled the sweet scent. Degan Bone gave me flowers. I’d dreamed of this day since we met in kindergarten. I had fallen in love with him for already knowing how to write the whole alphabet.<br /><br />Flowers can mean many different things when they are given, but flowers from Degan only meant one thing. We’d been almost-together for so long I worried it’d become our permanent state, like fake flowers. Always there, always beautiful, but not alive. Not quite right.<br /><br />“Want to come back to the farm with me? We can help my mom make the cornbread you love so much. I’ve been wanting to learn how anyway.”<br /><br />Keeping in the tradition of things in my life being unfair... “I can’t. I have to go to headquarters and report for duty.”<br /><br />“That sucks.” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling it out of his face again. “But I did think of a new sabotage last night.”<br /><br />“Yeah?” The idea of a new way to mess with my mom’s precious reality TV show got a real smile out of me. “What is it?”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
I was a timeshare condo of a person. Every other Wednesday, and weekends, I spent time with my mom. Not because she wanted to, or even because I wanted to, but because the court said to.<br /><br />It was only possible to get to HQ by hiking, four-wheeler, or SUV. It was tucked in the middle of Wandering Woods, down a path that was always only one or two days away from being completely overgrown. I stopped my Jeep on the cement pad near the ever-changing fleet of SUVs.<br /><br />All the electronic activity from inside HQ made the outside buzz like a hive. They truly didn’t understand how to hunt. If they really wanted to catch Bigfoot, or anything, HQ would’ve blended in with the woods like a tree.<br /><br />Cables thick like snakes wore marks in the door and acted like a makeshift security system for strangers who didn’t know their reach. I shouldered the door open and hoped to see Jasper or Amber waiting for me. Not Mom or Pearl. Jasper and Amber were easiest to distract while I did something to set back production a day or two. I’d hide a camera, unplug the GPS to keep it from charging, anything to annoy Mom.<br /><br />No one waited inside the tiny living room. The threadbare couch sat empty and the concrete floor made my feet cold through my boots. Everything about the cabin made my veins fill with ice water. It was minimalistic in a way that wasn’t stylish, just lazy.<br /><br />I set off to find Gems. If no one was around, I could pull major, uninterrupted sabotage.<br /><br />What started out as a two-room hunting cabin turned into a sprawling fortress of bizarrely connected rooms. The cluttered, fast-food- container-filled kitchen opened into a long hall that every important room sprouted from. Mom’s voice sounded from the bathroom to the right. With the door open just a crack, I caught a glimpse of her frizzy, brown hair before I moved down the hall and out of sight.<br /><br />“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” The words came out annoyed. </div>
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“Lawrence... Lawrence ... you’re not even letting me speak.” </div>
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Dad. They were fighting again. I knew that because they usually only spoke when they had to fight about something. I froze in place so I wouldn’t make a sound and listened.<br /><br />“Because I am busy and forcing quality time on me isn’t helping our relationship.” When she paused, I had to hold my breath. What she meant was she was too busy for me. “I have a show to do, and I know youdon’t understand the amount of work that takes, but I need to get the deal for a third season. I’m not saying she can’t come over, but she has to call and I have to okay it. I don’t need this shit right now.”<br /><br />She didn’t want to see me the few, measly days we were scheduled to be together because the show was more important. Just the potential for a third season was more important. Stupid, nonexistent Bigfoot was more important. Tears welled in my eyes but I’d already cried today, and I wasn’t about to do it again. If my own mom didn’t want to spend time with me, how could I have expected Detective Witherall to? My fingers clenched into fists as my devastated heart stitched itself back together with threads of rage.<br /><br />I walked on silent feet farther down the hall, tuning out Mom’s excuses for the solutions Dad was undoubtedly offering her. My goal was to get in the editing room and destroy something, take out some of the pain on something that meant more to her than I did. Amber and Pearl sat behind the control panel, both wearing monstrous headsets, their fingers flicking over computer mice. I didn’t even notice them at first, with how quiet they were. They looked like silent DJs. I did a sweep of the room to see where Jasper was hiding, but I couldn’t find him.<br /><br />With that plan out, I headed toward the garage. Degan’s idea about the tires sounded good. New tires were expensive, and Mom should have to pay for something.<br /><br />When I got to the door at the end of the hall, Jasper’s handheld camera resting on the desk called to me like a siren song. Crouching down so I could be at eye level with the camera, I flipped it on its side and checked the memory card slot. The thin, blue rectangle barely poked out of its spot. It was risky, because Jasper was still unaccounted for, but I clicked the camera on, rewound for a few seconds, and hit play.<br /><br />The footage showed The Gems, my mom’s group, stomping through the woods. Mom and Dad couldn’t fight forever, but I could still hear her in the bathroom, her voice rising a few notches in irritation. My fingers fumbled as I hurried to find the delete button, knocking the camera on its side again.<br /><br />When I found it, I only paused for a fraction of a second, my adrenaline pumping, to think about what I was going to do. Was I really willing to be so destructive?<br /><br />Yes.<br /><br />Just the slightest pressure from my fingertip caused the camera to beep with a sad bloop sound, and just like that, the footage was gone.<br /><br />“Fiona?” Jasper’s deep voice sounded from my right. I hadn’t even heard the door to the garage open.<br /><br />“I—I—uh...” I trailed off. His large stature never felt more imposing.<br /><br />“What happened?” He wiped his grease-covered hands on his jeans and kept the acquisition out of his voice. When he picked the camera up to check the footage, he asked, “Did it somehow get deleted?”<br /></div>
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Good old Jasper, with his heart as pure as his head was bald, still giving me the benefit of the doubt. </div>
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“I’m not sure.”</div>
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<br />“When did you get here?” Mom. She stood next to Jasper with her jeans hung low on her hips because they were at least two sizes too big. Putting on the show and looking for Bigfoot were all that mattered to her. More than food. More than me.<br /><br />“I can’t find the footage we shot yesterday,” Jasper interrupted.<br /><br />“What?” She snatched the camera from his hands. “That was good stuff and now it’s gone?” She hit the buttons like she knew what she was doing, but Mom was never behind the camera, only in front. The screen remained blank, lifeless. “Dammit, Jasper. What happened to it?”<br /><br />He glanced at me, then back to Mom. “I’m not sure. I must’ve messed it up.”<br /><br />“Seriously? You messed it up? We can’t just mess things up.” Her voice rose with every word.<br /><br />Jasper tried to take the camera from her, but Mom shrugged him off, turning her shoulder to keep it away from him. “I’m really sorry, Ruby. We can go out again today or I’ll edit old stuff together. It’ll be fine,” Jasper said, desperate to placate my mom.<br /><br />Mom set the camera back down on the desk while my chest hammered like the Tell-Tale Heart was in there.<br /><br />“This is unacceptable. I can’t believe you’d be so careless. We don’t need this kind of setback right now, and you’re really pissing me off with your lax attitude.”<br /><br />There was no better wake-up call for my actions than seeing how they immediately impacted someone else. Mom deserved the sabotage. Jasper did not. And worse yet, he was getting blamed for what I did and taking it like a champ.<br /><br />“Mom.”<br /><br />She ignored me, probably forgetting I was there the moment show drama came up. She stepped closer to Jasper like she could intimidate him. He had almost two feet on her.<br /><br />“I’m too busy for this. You need to fix it. Get it back. I’m not filming again because you can’t keep your camera under control.”<br /><br />“Mom.” The guilt clawed at my throat, choking me.</div>
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<br />“Ruby, come on.” Jasper laughed like she wasn’t in his face with crazy, angry eyes. “It’s no big deal.”</div>
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<br />“Incompetence is a big deal. And if you think it’s so funny, you can be replaced.”</div>
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<br />No. No. No. I couldn’t let that happen when Jasper was only trying to protect me. </div>
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“Mom.”<br /><br />“Fiona, what?” She turned to me, throwing her hands up as she did. “I’m busy here.”<br /><br />“I deleted the video.”</div>
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<b>Find THE BIGFOOT MURDERS here:</b></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-63093179521108055892019-07-06T18:06:00.002-04:002019-07-06T18:06:43.524-04:00Chapter One Preview: How Long Is Forever? by Erin M. Leaf<div class="page" title="Page 4">
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<span style="font-family: TODADEMO;"><span style="font-size: large;">HOW LONG IS FOREVER?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold";"><span style="font-size: large;">Erin M. Leaf </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold";"><span style="font-size: large;">Copyright © 2019</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold";"><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter One</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Charlie, I have a towel for you,” Eva called from the relative shelter of the front door overhang. She’d squished herself up against her house, hoping to keep from getting wet as she held the cotton fabric in front of her like a shield.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">The man on the ladder spared a moment to fake scowl at her as the rain continued to pour down on him without mercy. A towel would do him no good at all until he finished his task and they both knew it, but she had to offer, right? It was only polite, after all. She held the towel out, half apologetically. Charlie shook his head at her, light brown eyes amused, then plunged his hands back into the clogged gutter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Eva blushed and awkwardly tucked the towel under her arm. Embarrassment had her ducking her head. She wasn’t sure if it was his expression, the water plastering every piece of clothing to his sculpted, muscular body, or her stupid comment, but it didn’t really matter, did it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Sorry,” she mumbled, knowing he couldn’t hear her. She wished her dad were still alive to spare her this situation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll be done with this side in a moment, Eva,” Charlie said, instead of yelling at her like another guy might. Then he coughed as dirty rainwater ran into his mouth. Eva cringed in sympathetic horror—those gutters were full of rotting leaves—but he shook his </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">head like one of those dudes in a shampoo commercial, and all her sympathy went out the window as the spectacle of Charlie wet through to the bone registered against her retinas. The man was </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">fine</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">. He was more than fine, actually. He was the stuff girls’ dreams were made of: all wet, flowing hair, solid muscle, and competence rolled up into a tight, teasing package of male awesomeness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Eva bit her cheek, hoping the pain would jolt her out of her fixation on him, but all it did was make her wince. Charlie was a hell of a man, and he was here, right now, helping her out of a nasty situation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Girlhood crush, still ongoing,” she muttered to herself, almost resentfully. If there was one thing she had always known in her life, it was that her father had loved her deeply and unconditionally, and she’d loved him back just as much. Growing up, that was all she’d needed. If he were still alive, he’d be the one up there on that ladder, and she wouldn’t be stuck here staring at his best friend, Charlie Greenwood: wet as hell and just as hot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Because the second thing that she’d always known in her life was that her dad’s friend Charlie was probably the nicest man in the world. Certainly nicer than her stupid Uncle Albert, her mother’s brother, who had made himself a nosy, leering pest ever since her mother had died a year and a few months after her dad. Fuck cancer. And fuck sepsis. The infection had got her dad, and the cancer had taken her mother a year ago after he’d died. And so, after three horrible years of illness and hospitals and grief and railing against the unfairness of it all, Eva was alone, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, in the little house she’d inherited from her parents. And the gutters were clogged all to hell after the torrential rain this autumn. To top it all off, she hated heights, and that meant she needed help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Enter Charlie, stage left</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, she thought, looking at his butt. His wet jeans clung in all the right places. She bet it made for a great handhold during sex, not that she’d know. She hadn’t had time or inclination or opportunity for anything even remotely resembling a relationship, let alone a hookup in the past few years. Grief had a way of stopping life in its tracks. She hadn’t even really begun life yet, anyway, before everything happened. She’d never been on a date. Never kissed anyone. She glanced down at herself, frowning at her generously-sized figure. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">And it’s not like anyone’s ever lined up to play footsie with me, anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Almost done,” Charlie called out as he balanced on the ladder over top of the front walkway. Water cascaded down over his ridiculously ripped body while he dragged out huge handfuls of rotting leaves from the top of the downspout. Charlie was hands down the hottest man she’d ever met in her life, and she remembered well her utter dismay at age fourteen when she’d first realized that she’d have a crush on him forever. That knowledge was enough to squeeze her insides into a tight, uncomfortable knot whenever he was around, which was more often than she’d ever expected him to be now that her dad was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">You shouldn’t be staring at his ass, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">she told herself, but she couldn’t seem to help it. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">He’s probably twenty years older than you, you idiot, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">the voice of reason in her head also said, but it didn’t matter. Her gaze was firmly stuck on Charlie as he stretched out his arm again—insane muscles bunching under his sopping wet, faded green t-shirt. He reached into the clogged gutter to haul out a stinking, evil wad of decaying leaves and God only knew what else and flung the mess onto the ground. Of course, it was still raining. It was always freaking raining these days. The roof had started leaking into the living room above the bay window because the gutters were blocked. And because Eva’s mom had been just as afraid of heights as Eva, no one had gone up there in several years to pull out the leaves. Charlie was who she’d had to call for help, and there he was right now. Soaking wet, right in front of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">In all his glory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Another thing Eva had always known was that she was abominably tall for a girl, and she definitely weighed too much, because the size sixteen jeans she used to wear didn’t go up over her hips right anymore. And she didn’t fit into normal sized bras. And most guys looked tiny to her as she stared down at them, so she had never managed a date, let alone a first kiss or any of the other normal things teenage girls did with boys. She’d been too large and too smart most of her childhood in comparison to the other girls at school, and then she’d been grieving, and so now here she stood, staring at Charlie because he was </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">so damned perfect </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">and she couldn’t help herself. Charlie was the only man she knew who towered over her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Eva was twenty-one years old, and everything about her life sucked right now, except her dad’s best friend, who, at six feet five inches of gloriously muscled manhood, was </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">taller </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">than she was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie made her feel positively petite. And he always came when she needed him. And that was why, as she stood under the eaves of the front porch, watching him throw stinking, awful gunk from the gutters onto the ground in the pouring rain, that she suddenly decided that enough was enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">She was going to ask him for help with something far more embarrassing, and much more bothersome than her stupid gutters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">****<br />Charlie reached his arm into the gutter for the umpteenth time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">and cursed under his breath as he dragged out another handful of stinking leaves. He should’ve come here a month ago and cleaned out the damned things, but he’d forgotten, and now he was paying for it. He’d promised his buddy Phil he’d look after his wife Mary and their daughter Eva, and he’d done his best, but clearly, his best wasn’t good enough. Phil had died, and then Mary had died, and Eva was the only one of the family left. She was barely grown and living in their house all by herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">And now Charlie was here, in the rain, wet through to the bone. From the corner of his eye, he could see Eva watching him, fingers twisted in the towel she’d grabbed. She looked embarrassed and uncertain. She looked adorable. He gritted his teeth and made himself reach in and pull out another handful of stinking mess.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">She’s not for you</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, he thought to himself. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">No. Nope. Not gonna look</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">. Eva had grown up into just the kind of woman he liked best but almost never met: tall, curvy, and gorgeous as hell. Even worse, she was ridiculously intelligent, and if there was one thing Charlie liked even better than boobs and ass, that was a woman with a brain. She’d managed to finish college </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">early, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">despite her parents’ illnesses and deaths. It had been difficult, but somehow, she hadn’t broken under the misery of it all. He admired that. He admired </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">her</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">. If he were twenty years younger, he’d say he had a crush on her, but he was a grown man of thirty-five. Adult men did </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">not </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">crush on girls Eva’s age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Do </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">not </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">look at her,” he muttered under his breath, even as his eyes disobeyed him and shifted down and to the right. She stood under the front porch, hands crossed over her glorious boobs, curly hair in a wild mess around her shoulders. She’d slung the towel over her shoulder, and he could tell she’d used it to wipe rain off her face. He wanted to leap down off the ladder and toss </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">her </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">over </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">his </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">shoulder, towel be damned. He wanted to take her home and show her exactly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">what a man like him enjoyed doing to a woman like her, but she was his dead best friend’s daughter, and that meant </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">hands off</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Looks like you got it all,” she called out, eyeing the lack of water fountaining over the top of the gutter. “I’ve still got that towel for you.” She uncrossed her arms and dangled it from her fingers. Of course she’d fetched a red towel. It was like waving a flag at a bull.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Frustrated, Charlie grunted, hand still in the freezing cold water now flowing through the gutter. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Maybe if I leave it in there a little longer it’ll keep my dick under control, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he thought, but then conceded that it was a losing battle all around. Eva was just too damned enticing. He moved his hand around, mostly to buy himself some time to get his shit under control. The clog was gone. When he’d arrived, water had been gushing over the front of the bay window, and a leak had started inside on the ceiling. He’d be fixing that later after everything dried out. Now, though, the water was sluicing down into the downspout like it was supposed to, and he had no reason to stay up here on this ladder. Where he was safe. And fucking freezing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You coming down?” Eva called to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie sighed to himself, then nodded, and then he carefully stepped down the slick ladder. He should’ve worn his work boots, but he’d dashed out the door so quickly he hadn’t bothered. His sneakers slipped on the bottom rung, but he caught himself and landed on the walk. He tipped the ladder back and drew the extension down. Eva’s gaze bored a hole into his back. He had no idea what she was looking at. She’d seen him messing with ladders a hundred times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You want the towel now?” she asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He smiled wryly and tilted his head up as the rain continued to pound down on him. “I don’t think your little towel is going to help much, Eva.” He hefted the ladder and headed for her tiny garage, ignoring the water streaming down his face. It was a bit of a tight maneuver to get the damned thing down the stone steps on the side of the house, but he managed it. When he’d finished hanging it on the garage wall, he muscled the old, squeaky door closed and headed back up to the front of the house. Eva waited for him at the door. She looked adorable clutching the bright towel, but God help him, he wished she was wearing something less attractive. He’d always had a thing for women in sundresses, and Eva had a habit of wearing them often. The light cotton, though not form-fitting, hugged her curves in</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">a way that left nothing to the imagination. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would distract his libido.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I can’t believe it’s still pouring down,” Eva said, making a face at the sky. Even though she was under the overhang, it was raining hard enough to dampen her hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Your curls are looking a little wild,” he said, smiling. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and lifted the strand sticking to her cheek. She’d always had unruly, curly hair. He wanted to sink his hands into it and— </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">No. No, you do not, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he reminded himself, abruptly dropping the lock of hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“My hair is always a mess. You know that.” Not seeming to notice his sudden irritation with himself, Eva sighed, impatiently pushing the mass of her hair over her shoulder. “It’s been coming down for the past hour. And all day yesterday, too.” She opened the door and held it for him. “Come on inside. The least I can do is feed you. I have a lasagna in the oven.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie had just been planning on leaving so he could get home and dry off, </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">and stop imagining my friend’s little girl naked, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he reminded himself, but lasagna was the magic word, and Eva knew it. He couldn’t resist pasta. “You didn’t have to make dinner,” he said to her, following her into the house helplessly. The delicious aroma of sauce and garlic hung in the air, and he sniffed appreciatively. “Oh, God, that smells fantastic.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">She flashed a grin at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie smiled sheepishly. Eva’s lasagna was to die for, probably because she used the same recipe her dad Phil had. Charlie had always loved his friend’s cooking. His stomach growled embarrassingly, and she smirked. Charlie rolled his eyes as he paused just inside the front door, dripping onto the small square of ceramic tile. “I’m going to make a mess, honey.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Eva handed him the towel, not even blinking at the endearment that’d slipped out unintentionally. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Get a fucking grip</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">, man, he told himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Go on into the bathroom. Take a hot shower. I can throw your clothes in the dryer while you warm up,” she said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie looked at her for a moment, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of being naked in her bathroom, but then a shiver wracked his body. She was right, damn it. It might be summer, but the rain was cold, and now </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">he </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">was cold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Go on,” she said, poking him until he moved away from the front door. She closed it behind them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie took the towel she held out and rubbed it over his face and hair. “Hang on.” He toed off his shoes, then stripped his wet socks off his feet. The least he could do was minimize the damage as he walked through the house. He’d take off his pants and shirt, too, if he were alone and not sporting a massive erection. He hoped to God she didn’t recognize the bulge pushing against his wet jeans. He knew she’d never had a boyfriend, never dated, so odds were she was still innocent about ... stuff. He winced internally. That thought did </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">not</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">help calm him down in the least.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll take those,” Eva said, holding out her hands.<br />Charlie stared at her. “You want my dirty socks?”<br />She glared at him and snapped her fingers. “I want all of your</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">wet clothes, Charlie.”</span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Ha. If only. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie snorted and handed her the socks. She</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">didn’t seem to realize it, but she had the slightest hint of a blush high on her cheekbones. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Embarrassed? </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he wondered. He smirked. She was the one who’d told him to strip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Go on to the bathroom. You know the way,” she said, looking down at his feet. A tiny frown marred her brow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie shook his head, grimacing at the water that streamed off his hair. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the droplets now decorating her tile entryway. He took off his shirt. That was safe, right? And the less clothing he wore to the bathroom, the less water he’d drip on the way there. When he looked up, he caught Eva staring fixedly at his chest. He held out his shirt. “Eva?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“What?” A full-blown flush bloomed on her face. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She took the shirt from him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">She was ogling my chest, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Charlie realized, surprised. He’d been noticing her for a while now, but he had no idea that Eva looked at </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">him </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">that way. In a sexual way. He looked at her face. She’d captured her lower lip between her teeth as if she were trying not to bite into a delicious candy bar. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">And that’s not a good thing, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he told himself, but it didn’t help. His cock jerked despite the clammy, wet jeans he wore. The last thing he needed right now was for his erection to grow bigger. He had a difficult enough time controlling himself around her without trying to walk through her space with a giant hard- on that wouldn’t fucking quit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Go on,” she told him. She looked like she wasn’t going to budge until he headed for the bathroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He sighed internally. “It won’t take me long,” he said aloud, striding through the comfortable living room and through the dining room. Like all the ranch houses built on this street, the floor plan consisted of a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen each leading to the other, and then a short hallway behind the kitchen that held three bedrooms and a bathroom. The house was small, but cozy. It was nothing like the airy, soaring modern cabin Charlie had built himself on ten acres of forest north of town. But he liked Eva’s house. He’d liked it when it had been his friend Phil’s house, and Eva had been just a child. Somehow, he liked it more, now. Eva had done something with it to make it her own, although he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Hand me your jeans after you take them off so I can put them in the dryer,” Eva said when he reached the bathroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Instead of answering, he closed the door most of the way and took off his pants, careful not to catch his dick in the zipper. He pursed his lips, wondering what she’d think when he didn’t hand her any boxer shorts, then shrugged. What did it matter? She was off limits. It didn’t matter what she thought. “Here you go,” he said, slipping his arm with the sopping jeans through the cracked door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">She took them, and Charlie heard her open the basement door. He smiled wryly as he looked down at his erection. He hadn’t wanted to come here and clean out gutters, but he’d made a promise to his friend. He hadn’t wanted a hard-on, but now he had one of those, too. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower, rolling his eyes at himself when the scent of Eva’s soap wafted up in the hot water, making his cock ache.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">I’m not going to be able to cold shower this thing away, am I?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he mused, then took himself in hand. He could jack off in ten seconds flat, especially in this shower, with Eva’s stuff all around him. He groaned quietly as he recalled the blush on her face. She was twenty- one, but he’d bet his left ball she’d never touched an aroused man. Somehow, that thought just made him harder. He hissed as his fist squeezed the tip of his erection, and then his hips pumped once, twice, and it was all over. Jizz coated the pretty white tile of Eva’s shower, and Charlie hung his head in the warm spray, panting and just a bit embarrassed. Had he ever come so fast in his life? He didn’t think so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Fuck,” he said a long minute later. His cock was still half- hard and sensitive, but at least now he could stuff it into clothing without injuring himself. At least, he hoped he could. Eva had a way of inspiring his body to new heights of stupidity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Hands off,” he muttered, thinking of Eva and her gorgeous body and her pretty blush. “Fuck it all to hell.”</span><br />
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-72213276304009808322019-05-25T12:00:00.000-04:002019-05-25T12:00:38.626-04:00FREE FIRST CHAPTER: Instinct by Niki Cluff<div class="page" title="Page 4">
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<span style="font-family: TODADEMO; font-size: 16pt;">INSTINCT</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,BoldItalic"; font-size: 14pt;">Breed, 2</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Niki Cluff Copyright © 2019</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Chapter One</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Run,” the voice crackles over the walkie-talkie bouncing against my hip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Lights flicker above me with a hum. Walls painted a deep blue or slate gray, I can’t tell in the low lighting, stretch up to the matching ceiling, trapping me like a mouse in a maze. There are no windows here, no doors along the walls. A dusty old smell fills the space. No way out. Panic grips my chest and I take deep breaths in an attempt to steady myself. The walls are too close. The ceiling presses down on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I pick up the walkie-talkie and depress the button along the side. My hands tremble and I fumble with the button. I breathe through my nose, trying to hide the panic bubbling in my chest. He doesn’t need to know. If he does, he’ll try to fix it. To help me. To save me. Is that what I want? Is that what I need? “What do you see?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Nothing, Kyle,” Ichiro says with a grumble. He’s not happy about something, but I don’t know what, can’t see what, and I can’t focus on it. I’m trapped. I need to get out. I’m overwhelmed by my own anxiety. It’s crippling. Debilitating, if I let it overpower me. “I can only see your dot on the map. I need to get you out.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I try again, realizing I hadn’t been specific. He wasn’t paying enough attention to read between the lines. “What do you </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">feel</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">?” Because I can’t feel anything right now with my own fears</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">overwhelming me. I need to calm down, but I don’t have my music with me. Don’t have Ichiro’s calming presence nearby to keep me focused and steady. I need Ichiro to walk me through this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He doesn’t respond right away. I run down the hall and around a corner into another stretch of hallway that looks the same as the rest. Get out. </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Get out. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I halt my movements and place my hands on my knees, bending over to breathe. I need to calm down. To think. Ignore the twisting knot growing in my stomach. When Ms. Hartmann brought me down to the lower floors of the school, I’d thought I would be doing more computer work like I had before the comet hit. Before the world ended and the Internet crashed. Before technology died. When she locked me in this room without a word, I realized she wasn’t trying to test me on my hacking skills. She was never testing my hacking skills. They weren’t a needed skill before the comet hit. I know that now. She’s testing my intuition. The bond I have with Ichiro. She needs this information the way she had when she’d tested my skills with a computer. I just don’t know why. Yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I stop trying to think my way through the maze. I’ve always been good at solving mazes on paper, but there is no map of this place for me to see my way through. To trace my finger along the tracks or to follow as I move along the corridors. The way I had when I was a child waiting for food at a restaurant. All I know is what I see ahead of me and what’s passed behind me. I am blind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Kyle, you need to calm down and think,” Ichiro says, his voice softening to soothe me. “Breathe.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">A shudder runs down my back. I take another deep breath in through my nose and release it through my mouth. My heart pounds in my chest. Blood thrums in my veins. I have to get out of here. Find the exit. Get </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">out</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">. Ichiro continues to murmur into the walkie-talkie. Every fiber of my being focuses on him. Getting back to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Slow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">My intuition warns me to move slowly. To stop running. Another thrill of panic runs through me and I shudder. Hartmann is capable of so many things. She could have all sorts of traps hidden along the walls and the floors. Government money put to good use, I suppose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I can’t see anything, Kyle. Move slowly,” Ichiro says, and I can tell he’s worried because his accent is thicker, more of the South Korean than the formal British.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I swallow and place my hand against the wall to my right. Feeling the smooth surface of the metal. The small gaps and cracks where the panels fit together. And then there is air on my fingertips. I stop moving, my left foot dangling above the floor mid-step. There is a gap in the wall that isn’t from the panels being placed together. Rather, in the middle of the panel. A hollow space behind the panel letting breaths of cool air whisper against my fingertips. A way out? Or just a hollow space?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Ichiro,” I say, my voice a thin whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering. It’s not like there is anything on this floor that can hear me. Is there? “Can you see anything in this room?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">The walkie-talkie crackles and then there is silence. A musty smell like old wet dirt fills the space. This place has been here for a while, perhaps the entire time Hartmann had been building the school. Like she’d planned on having someone with my skill set enroll. Like she knew she’d need to test their talents. The idea sends a shiver through my spine. What type of research had she done that led her to this point? To conning a bunch of teenagers to a school under the pretense of saving the world when really she’d intended them to become a breeding factory for after the comet hit? To bringing those of us who seemed to have a sixth sense together to raise the world up again? If the others truly had a type of sixth sense like Ichiro and I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shift my weight backward and plant my foot on the floor beside my right. Safety, as far as I can tell. I drop to my knees and crawl to the small gap in the wall. I can barely see the line where the panel is split, the gap almost invisible. Chewing on my upper lip, I crawl over to the other side and feel along the wall. It contains the same gap. Not a way out. A trap.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“There’s a hollow space in the wall on both sides,” Ichiro says, the walkie-talkie crackling back to life, and I jump, falling back onto my rump.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I squeeze my eyes shut and let a puff of air out of my mouth. “I figured.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“There’s something round inside both sides, but I can’t tell what from the imaging.” He growls. “I’m not good at this computer stuff. I can’t toggle between infrared, x-ray, or anything else I might need. It should be you guiding me, not the other way around.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You can do this,” I say, standing and brushing dust off my hands and jeans. I’m glad I can’t see what lives on the floors and walls</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">of this space. If there was rat feces or something—I shudder at the thought. “I need you to do this. Do you see any sort of trigger?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“No,” he grunts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">In the low fluorescent lighting, I can see very little. I can’t tell if there are triggers in the floor or the wall. I need him to be my eyes. To figure out this room with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Indiana Jones,” Ichiro says, and I hear a sound like the snapping of fingers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I blink slowly, trying to keep myself from rolling my eyes though he can’t see me. Not me as a person. I’m a small dot on a computer screen wherever Hartmann has him set up watching me. “This really isn’t the time for movie trivia.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“No. Maybe she modeled this place after Indiana Jones. The tiles are triggers.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You mean like pressure plates on the floor?”<br />“Yes.”<br />“Is this a guess or fact?” I ask, looking over the tiles in the low</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">lighting. I can’t tell if one is different from another by sight alone. Everything on this floor looks exactly the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Instinct,” he says and a small burst of warmth blossoms in my chest. His instinct is kicking in. Are we so out of practice that we have forgotten how the give and take of our abilities works? The idea makes me cringe. I am the reason for that block.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“You want me to guess?”<br />The walkie-talkie crackles. “What do you feel?”<br />Nothing. I feel nothing but fear and the worry that the ceiling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">may start to slide down the length of the wall and crush me. But I don’t want to tell him that. To sound utterly hopeless. Before the comet hit, I didn’t worry that Hartmann might kill us. We had parents, people to return home to. Who expected to hear from us. Except for Ichiro, whose parents died when Asia sank. Now that the comet had hit and wiped out everything as far as we could tell, she has no reason to keep us alive if she doesn’t want to. And I am not living up to my end of the bargain because I won’t sleep with Ichiro.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I close my eyes. Try to hear that still small voice deep inside of me. The voice that I had neglected when the world fell apart. When I lost my brother to the comet that slammed into the earth. And she knew where they were. She could have saved them, but she didn’t. I didn’t. I’d wanted to escape my parents so badly, I left my little brother to die.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Don’t feed the guilt,” Ichiro says, his voice cracking. I wonder how far away he is that his voice cracks through the device. “It isn’t your fault.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shove the thoughts of Brandon back down into the black hole deep within me and close my eyes again. Ichiro starts to ramble. I don’t know what he’s talking about. He just talks to keep me focused on him. On us. I search for that voice again. The voice that led me to Ichiro our first day at the school. That gave me my companion and friend in this place. My new family. The world falls away a little bit at a time, the black void swallowed by him. By us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Forward.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I take a tentative step onto the tile in front of me with my left foot then my right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I shuffle my right foot onto the next tile and then my left. The tiles are small, barely enough room for both of my feet. One wrong move. One tip in the wrong direction. Whatever lives beneath these walls will do whatever they’ve been built to do. Destroy, frighten, or both.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Another tentative slide of my feet.<br />“Kyle!” Ichiro shouts.</span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">Get down!</span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I don’t question the words that burn through my entire body.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">The panic that surges into every limb. I drop to the ground with a hard thump, hitting my chin against the tile. My teeth clack together. Something whines behind the walls, followed by the release of a gear or a spring. Discs whir out from the slots in the walls, shooting into the opposite side. The panels scream and screech as metal hits metal. I cover my head with my hands and press myself into the tile like I’m trying to become the ground itself. Sparks fly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Kyle? Answer me,” Ichiro demands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">My hands tremble. I drop them from my head and look up at the walls. The discs are half-dug into their hollow panels. Teeth, jagged and sharp, stick out from the metal wheels. Large saw blades that belong in a mill somewhere. My hand slides down my side to the walkie-talkie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m fine,” I say, breathless.<br />“Fine? You’re fine? What were those things? What happened?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">he asks, and there is a growl behind his words. Something feral that hadn’t been there when we’d first met. Something that started appearing whenever Hartman put me in danger. Because it was never him that she tested and tried. Not physically, anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Saw blades,” I say, cringing. I stand and brush myself off, feeling the fine layer of dirt and dust on the ground clinging to the sticky sweat along my entire body.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll kill her,” Ichiro swears, his voice the thick growl of a feral wolf. “Wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze until—”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“Can you do that after I get out of here?” I ask, rubbing my chin. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I realize I’ve bitten my tongue. For all his posturing, I know that Ichiro would never hurt anyone. It isn’t in his nature. Isn’t in the way he is built. I wonder if I have it in me to kill someone. The way Andy had murdered Angel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Ichiro clears his throat. “You’re fine?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I spit some of the blood onto the ground. Let </span><span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Italic"; font-size: 12pt;">her </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">clean it up. “I’m fine.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He lets out a breath. “There should be a door not far from where you are.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">“There is?” I glance up and take in the matching walls, ceiling, and floor. I don’t have to worry about springing the trap now that the blades have already shot free of their holds. Without waiting for his answer, I head down the hallway toward freedom. Toward him.</span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-62738776300353408922019-04-26T18:57:00.002-04:002019-04-26T18:57:09.263-04:00First Chapter: FORGIVEN ARE THE STARRY-EYED by Christine Doré Miller<div class="page" title="Page 4">
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<span style="font-family: TODADEMO; font-size: 16pt;"><b><a href="http://books2read.com/u/3kvjqR">FORGIVEN ARE THE STARRY-EYED</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Christine Doré Miller Copyright © 2019</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "TimesNewRoman,Bold"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Chapter One</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">My eyelids closed as if they were being drawn down by </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">sluggish, unhurried weights. When I forced them open after several seemingly endless moments, nothing had changed. I could still make out a blurry image of Josh standing nearby, Mr. Thompson's hands clenched firmly on Josh's shoulders from behind. There was a crowd, I think, and muffled voices. The steel school locker felt cold against my back and I recognized the familiar feeling that lately seemed to just dwell and ache in my bones. Fear, I think it was, mixed with just enough madness to keep the blood racing through my veins ... fast. Too </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">fast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Why did you do that, Andrea?" Josh shouted in my direction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">My eyes fell closed again. I don't remember what else he said. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I just remember the feeling of each overly pronounced syllable piercing the air while he said it. I stared through the darkness that danced behind </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">my heavy eyelids. What had I done?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I tried to pry open my hazy eyes to examine the faces of the </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">expanding crowd as they stood, mouths agape. I only recognized a few. There were hardcover music books sprawled open on the tile floor at my feet. Confused, I looked to Josh, but the heavy silence of the room deafened any words he may have been saying. I gripped the ends of my soft, thin hair between my slender fingers and waited. Each thought </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">sunk deeper than the last.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">There was a poster taped sloppily against the locker behind me. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I turned my head to face it and focused. The ends were curled up and there were ripples in the masking tape adorned to the edges. "Oakwood High School Invitational—TONIGHT" it read in handwritten purple block letters. There was a pixelated saxophone image pasted underneath the words, "Brought to you by Mr. Thompson and the Oakwood High Jazz Band." I brought my hand up to trace the edges. The poster board felt crisp and thick under my fingertips. I could smell the aftermath of the permanent marker. The loud reverberating voice behind me got softer until it resembled a deep echo I could easily ignore. I started to pick at the tape from the bottom left corner of the </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">poster until I felt the sticky residue ball up underneath my fingernail.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Suddenly the life reentered my body in one abrupt breath when </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">I felt a strong tug on my arm. I turned and saw Ethan Marks. Everyone </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">else was gone. Had it been minutes this time? Hours?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Andrea! Come on," he barked at me, interlacing my arm, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">tucking it quickly under his. He jerked me to a standing position and pulled me down the hall, speeding up his gate as I stumbled to catch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Where's Josh?" I asked worriedly, but he didn't answer. We </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">were silent as we walked through the empty hallway. I lifted my gaze, trying to catch Ethan's eye, trying to read his thoughts. His light blue eyes, usually sparkling with laughter, were steely and somber as he charged forward, dragging me with him, away from the wreckage I'd </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">caused.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He stopped short and took a deep breath. His eyes were </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">unyielding and dismal as they studied me, and slowly his frustration </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">melted into a deep sadness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"What happened, Andrea? What was that back there?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"I don't know..." My voice began breaking. My thoughts were </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">muddled beyond recognition and I couldn't form the right words, or any </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">words, to explain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Ethan wrapped himself around me in a gentle, firm embrace. It </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">felt kind. And warm. And wonderfully different. My muscles unclenched for the first time in months, and I didn't know I was crying until I tasted the salt as it stained my face. I buried my head into Ethan's chest as he tightened his hold on me. I wanted him to say something, to tell me everything would be all right, but we both knew better. So we just stood there, Ethan supporting me as I clasped the back of his cotton</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">After a few minutes, I fully returned to my body as my </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">breathing calmed. I steadied my stance and took a step backward, shakily holding Ethan's forearms as I regained my balance. Wiping smudged mascara from my pale face, I met Ethan's eyes and quickly </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">looked down, fixating on a crack in the tile below me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Hey," he started, "Andrea ... it's..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"I'm okay. Ethan, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to ... I'm sorry I </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">... ugh your shirt." I motioned to the tear stains on his light green tee </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">that crept from his chest to his shoulder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Oh God, don't worry about that. Andie, I just..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"It's fine." I wiped my face and took a deep breath. "Thanks," I </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">said, squeezing Ethan's hand and looking in his eyes sincerely, so he knew I meant it. "I should go. But thanks." I shook my head and turned around to walk back into the havoc and face what I had done. I felt </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Ethan staring at me as I left. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">He was just another person whose life </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">would've been better if he hadn't met me. I swallowed, took a breath, </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">and kept walking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">It was over for now, that latest incident, and there was no way </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">to tell when there would be another one ... but there would definitely </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">be another one. I was too broken for it to be any other way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">After walking a short distance, I finally recognized Josh amidst </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">dozens of hurried students and parents milling toward the cafeteria. I meekly smiled and gave a half wave, unsure of how he'd be feeling after what had just happened, unsure if he'd even want to see me. But I was drawn toward him like the strongest magnet, unable to stay away </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">no matter how much I resisted or how much damage I'd caused.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Come on, babe, we've only got an hour until we have to be </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">back at the awards ceremony," Josh said, his dark brown eyes transfixed on me with concern. He didn't mention the incident. I didn't </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Josh's words were soft, but I couldn't shake the horror from my </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">body. How could he still love me after this? He deserved better. </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Everyone did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">Josh motioned for me to follow him outside the double doors </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">that led to the parking lot. As the cold Michigan air hit my face, I went to grab Josh's hand. He quickly dropped it when he saw Harper and jogged to catch up with her. I tried to follow briskly but was still carefully avoiding the ice patches on the black asphalt as I heard a car </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">start.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">"Come on, slowpoke!" Harper teased from the driver's seat. I </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">piled into the backseat of her 1980s white hatchback and had barely </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt;">buckled my seatbelt before we started moving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman;">Love what you read? Download </span>FORGIVEN ARE THE STARRY-EYED<span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman;"> </span><a href="http://books2read.com/u/3kvjqR" style="font-family: TimesNewRoman;">here</a><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman;">!</span></div>
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<br />Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-89685170631635799252019-04-05T15:46:00.003-04:002019-04-05T16:02:40.664-04:00Read Chapters 1 & 2 of (NOT QUITE) THE SAME OLD SONG by Lindsey Ouimet!<div class="page" title="Page 4">
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<span style="font-family: "todademo"; font-size: 16pt;">(NOT QUITE) THE SAME OLD SONG</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,bold"; font-size: 12pt;">Lindsey Ouimet Copyright © 2019</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,bold"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Chapter One</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I was going to kill my brother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Yep. Kill, as in maim brutally until he succumbed to death’s cold, dark embrace. Because a slow death wouldn’t do. No, he deserved to suffer. I didn’t know much about Chinese water torture, but I could learn. And the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the one he’d promised to fix months ago, would do the trick. A couple of hours of that would surely drive him insane. His brain might even start to liquefy. Maybe dribble out of his ears a bit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I wondered if that would be painful enough. Or painful at all, considering he’d killed most of his brain cells already, taking hit after hit of whatever his crackhead friends put in front of him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I hoped wherever he was at that moment, whatever he was smoking was laced with some bad shit. I didn’t even feel bad thinking it. This always happened. He’d disappear, lifting cash from Mom’s purse and leaving her sick with worry instead of anger. One day turned into two, three, eight at the most. He’d stumble in eventually, visibly worse for the wear, but with a sheepish </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry, Darcy. I promise I’ll be better from now on </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">smile plastered on his face. And then he’d do it </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Getting clean was part of Quinn’s regimen. Staying clean was a different story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Eventually, he’d fall back off the wagon. He’d get picked up in the alleyway behind a bar or hanging out at one of the other trailer parks in town, the ones far worse than our own. He’d spend time in the county jail but would never be dumb enough to call us from it asking for bail. He knew we wouldn’t have it. Mostly because he’d pocketed what we did have to score whatever shit landed him there in the first place, but also because ... well, the residents of Whispering Oaks Mobile Home Community weren’t exactly rolling in dough in the first place. And even though Mom had started doing clients’ hair in our poorly lit kitchen on the side, we were barely getting by.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Really, he was no worse off than half of our meth-addicted town, but it was bad enough to make Mom cry at night when she thought I couldn’t hear her. Our trailer walls were paper thin though, and I hadn’t slept soundly since I was thirteen and woke up to find one of my brother’s acquaintances rifling through my dresser drawers at three AM. Junkies were the goddamned worst.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Beating the snot out of him always crossed my mind. I’d tighten my fists at my sides when he inevitably made his reappearance, or when I’d find him sitting at the kitchen table in the mornings before I left for school, smiling nervously as he pushed a plate of apology pancakes—dusted with powdered sugar the way I liked—in my direction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Every time, I’d bite my tongue and forgive him. Every time, I’d wonder if one day those apologies would actually mean something. I hoped they would.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Whatever apology he offered this time, though, it was going to have to be </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">good</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">. And it damned well needed to mean something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">The guitar case slipped in my sweat-slicked hands and I nearly lost my hold on it as I pushed through the heavy glass door, the bell jingling to signal my entrance to Addams Gold & Pawn. My fingers tightened around the handle of the battered and beaten-to-hell case. The leather was cracked, torn, and covered in stickers from dozens of different bands—some long-forgotten, others legendary. And it held my favorite thing in the world. When I was little, my father let me have the honor of opening this case for him each time he played the guitar inside it. Later, he taught me how to play it myself. Letting it go, even temporarily, was going to hurt like a bitch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I straightened my shoulders and walked to the front counter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">This time... Well, this time I really was going to kill my brother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">****<br />“I know what this guitar is worth.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">It wasn’t the first time I’d found myself at this counter. Even though it was embarrassing and I’d die if anyone from school ever saw me, I’d patronized Addams Gold & Pawn—much more pawn than gold in the shop, by the way—for years. Our entire DVD collection came from the place, as well as the piece-of-shit, way- outdated iPod that resided almost permanently in my back pocket and the headphones around my neck. I’d sold and bought back the flat- screen television Mom had splurged on at least four times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I know what it’s worth too, Miss Andrews.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I found that highly unlikely considering there was a wall full of Wal-Mart’s First Act brand guitars behind him. He wouldn’t know a quality guitar if it bit him on the ass.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t think you understand,” I started, barely able to hold it together and hating every trace of vulnerability in my voice. “What you’re offering me—”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Is a better deal, with better terms than you’re going to get from anyone else in town.” He cut me off with a satisfied smirk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I wanted to slap it off his smug, I-own-this-joint face. “This is the </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">only </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">pawn shop in town.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Exactly.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I flinched. There were at least three pawn shops I knew of two towns over. I didn’t know if they’d offer me a better deal than the man in front of me, but I would’ve given anything to throw their names in his face. Then I glanced out the front window to where my bike leaned against the side of the ice machine on the sidewalk. It was old, rusted in places, and not even worth chaining up. No one in their right mind would want it—and no one in their right mind would use it to make the twenty-mile trip to Franklin in one-hundred-degree heat. My shirt was still damp from the ride over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">One look at Mr. Addams’s face told me he knew these things just as well as I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “$650.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">He let out a terrible, condescending little laugh before he turned his attention to something behind the counter. He didn’t care</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">that I was practically pawning my soul. He didn’t even have the decency to look me in eye as he countered with his original offer. “With the interest rate you want? $600.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">It was barely enough to cover rent and the past-due portion of our current power bill, but we could scrape by until the end of the month on it. I thought of the wad of cash Quinn had stolen from Mom’s purse—at least $900 from a wedding party she’d worked on the week before. He’d probably already blown it all before passing out on someone’s ratty, molding sofa.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“$625,” I spit out, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached. The extra $25 wouldn’t make much of a difference, but it would mean an extra tank of gas for Mom’s car. “Surely you can give me the same rate with only a measly $25 extra.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I can give you a lower rate with a bigger loan, Miss Andrews. You know that.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And owe even more money in the long run? No, thank you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Fine.” He shook his head and pushed a clipboard across the counter. He shoved a pen into my hand and nodded to the paperwork. “You know the drill.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I sighed. Yeah, I did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,bold"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Chapter Two</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,bold"; font-size: 12pt;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Still no word from Quinn?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I groaned and dropped the old </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">US Weekly </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I’d been reading into the grass. Despite their age, the pages had still left my fingertips smudged with ink. I swiped them across the towel I was lying on before wiping the sweat from my forehead. Turning to my best friend, I shook my head. “Nope. Not a word. As usual.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Maddie fidgeted from the corner of my eye. She tied three additional knots in the side string of her bikini bottom before finally spitting out what I knew she was going to say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I mean, you think he’s okay, right?” She cleared her throat. “You don’t think something’s happened to him, do you?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh, for God’s sake. Not you, too.” I narrowed my eyes at her, forgetting she couldn’t see them through my dark sunglasses. “Look, Quinn has enough admirers, Maddie. </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">How </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">exactly, I don’t fucking know, but you’re way too good to count yourself among the ranks. And of course, I think something’s happened to him. Something</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">always </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">happens to him.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">She wanted to argue, probably even say how she wasn’t interested in Quinn. But she was a shitty liar, so she kept quiet instead. She might not have been interested now but she had been in the past. Maddie could romanticize the hell out of a person like it was her job. She’d talked about Ryan Wadley for months after she found out he’d adopted a dog with only three legs from the shelter. As if his parents hadn’t had a big part in the decision-making process on that one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">So, of course, she </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">still </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">managed to bring up how Quinn had saved her life once every time someone mentioned summer, or swimming, or near-death experiences. Like it was a scene from an epic romance movie and she’d been on the verge of </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">going into the light</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I hated to burst her bubble, but the Quinn we grew up with— the one she’d looked at with hearts in her eyes after he rescued her from that awful, life-threatening leg cramp at the deep end of the pool at the YMCA—was long gone. Some days, when his eyes were clearer and he actually ventured out of his room, I would catch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">glimpses of that big brother. The older we got, though, the fewer and farther between those glimpses were. I didn’t want to think about it. It hurt too much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">We sat in silence. A couple of yards over, a neighbor cranked up their lawnmower, and I wondered how they could stand the heat this time of day. I was roasting, both underneath the harsh Georgia sun and in the remaining anger my brother had left in the pit of my belly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I’d intended to make the most of the summer before my senior year. I knew that soon I’d be back at school, slaving over homework assignments and studying as hard as I could for all my tests. Hoping with all I had that my grades would be worth it. That I’d be able to land a scholarship that would get me out of our crappy little town. I could go away to school and get a jump start on a new life. A better life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I shifted a little, trying to dry the sweat that had pooled in the small of my back against the scratchy towel underneath me. After another thirty or so seconds, I gave up any pretense of enjoying our sunbathing session and pushed up onto my elbows. “I’m bored.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“And I’m sweating like a pig,” she countered, sitting up with each of her long, lean legs crossed over in her lap. Maddie was built like a freaking supermodel. At almost six feet tall, I swore her legs made up four of them. My legs were short and, like the rest of my body, chubby. Maddie smoothed her somehow still perfect hair back from her face and huffed out a sigh, tilting her head toward the back door. “What do you think the chances are of your AC automatically working double-time and actually cooling it off in there?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">It wasn’t likely. Window-unit air conditioners in tiny metal cans didn’t stand a chance against a summer in the south. I stood up, pulling my bikini bottom out of my asscrack before the creepy neighbor kid next door peeked out from his bedroom blinds again, and tossed my towel over my shoulder. “About as good as Quinn suddenly showing up not only sober, but with enough money for me to buy Darlene back from the pawn shop.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“You’ll get her back,” she assured me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I wasn’t as confident. The $625 I’d gotten was long gone and my shifts at Mama Jo’s weren’t stacking up nearly as much as I wanted them to. I was banking on Mom helping me out after she paid the phone and gas bill, but I knew I’d be cutting it close. I was still</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">short about $90 on my payment for the month. There were only three days and two shifts left before the cut-off day, and tips </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">needed </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">to be good at Jo’s. I tried not to think about it, though, like so many other things. There wasn’t an option. I </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">had </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">to get that guitar back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Quinn had been gone for a record twenty-eight days. And I was a lot more worried than I let on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Worried, but still pissed about my guitar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I shrugged. “It’s got to be cooler inside than it is out here. Let’s go.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">After we were settled on the couch, a half-eaten bag of tortilla chips between us, Maddie dug her phone out of her purse. Mine had been out of minutes for weeks, but she kept a careful eye on hers— sometimes not even answering it when I’d call, opting instead to run the two streets that separated our trailers and knock on my bedroom window to see what I wanted. That was how I knew she must have really been bored when she started to scroll through her contacts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">She muttered something about giving someone a call, but I was too engrossed in an episode of </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">House Hunters International </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">to pay much attention. I hadn’t seen the episode yet, but I knew the couple would pick the five-bedroom split level just seconds from the beach, despite the ugly paint job and outdated guest bath. I couldn’t get enough of </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">House Hunters</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">. I doubted I’d ever be in their situation myself, but it was good to be prepared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I realized Maddie was waiting for me to say something. “Uh huh,” I said, nodding while my eyes were still glued to the screen. I usually felt guilty about the stolen cable Quinn had rigged up years before, but never when </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">House Hunters </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">was on. During their exit interview, the wife was explaining how they’d expanded the kitchen when I heard Maddie saying, “...your combat boots?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Wait, what?” I said, snapping out of it. “Why do you need those?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Well, dur. I’m going to look totally out of place if I go to the show in a sundress and sandals.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Show? Wait... What?” I looked over to where she was swinging her clasped hands back and forth in front of her, fluttering her eyelids. Classic </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">oh please, oh please, oh please </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">in Maddie-speak. “Oh, you bitch.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I took advantage of your distraction. And they should’ve picked the house with the big backyard.” She grabbed for my arm to</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">yank me off the couch. “Now come on. We only have a couple of hours to get ready!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I stood my ground. Or I planted my butt as firmly against the couch cushions as possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“How much is this going to cost?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Jake said the cover’s like, $5.00, but he can get us in for free.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t know...”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Her on-again, off-again boyfriend Jake wasn’t the most reliable of sources when it came to well, anything. And it might not have been much, but every penny counted. I was already having visions of being exactly $5.00 short when I totaled up my money to make this month’s payment at Addams Gold & Pawn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Sean will be there.” Maddie grinned.<br />I shrugged. “Meh.”<br />“Meh? That’s not what you were saying after Austin’s party</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">last month.” She wiggled her eyebrows and hips at the same time. “I believe it was something more along the lines of ‘mmm... mmm ... Mmm!’ Oh, wait. That was </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">during </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Austin’s party.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I chucked a pillow at her head and she laughed as she released my hand to back away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Sean’s cute, but he’s such a slut. And people probably think</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">I’m </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">one too just because we hook up sometimes.” I tried not to let it bother me, but people were quick to associate words like </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">whore </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">and</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">slut </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">with your name when they already considered you trailer trash. “And ... well, he’s kind of dumb.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">He was. Cute and dumb. Kind of like a puppy. Incessant licking included.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“So?” She backed up the two steps that put her into the short hallway leading to my room. “So are you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">She barely made it to the bedroom door before I slammed against it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” She held her hands out in surrender when I finally shouldered the door open. The locks barely worked. You only had to jiggle it the right way and put a little pressure on it. “Forget about Sean. There are like, a hundred bands playing tonight, though. New music! Maybe they won’t all suck. Does</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">that </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">pique your interest?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Unfortunately, it did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">**** I looked around at the venue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Venue was a strong word, really. We were at the American Legion on the other side of town. It was pretty much one big room with space for </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">maybe </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">fifty people and a small stage. The acoustics were awful and there was no sound system. We’d have to rely on whatever shitty equipment the bands playing brought with them. I wasn’t optimistic. But at least cement floors and cinderblock walls would make it easy for the cleanup crew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Which was definitely a good thing because there was somehow way more than fifty people here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Outside, there were cars parked on both sides of the dark, narrow side street the Legion was on, the parking lot of the bank it was tucked behind, and even in the church parking lot across from the bank. I didn’t think that the First Methodist Church of Arnoldsville would appreciate any of the music coming from a bunch of high school bands, but at least there weren’t signs telling people </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">not </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">to park there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“I can’t believe they’re charging for this shit,” I mumbled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Yeah, well, there are like, eight bands playing tonight, so...” Jake let his words fade into the crook of Maddie’s neck, along with his nose, lips, and tongue. I guessed they’d flipped the switch back to “on” in their relationship.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I didn’t bother with a response as I pushed my way through the crowd. I wasn’t surprised. They would hook up tonight, it would go great for a couple of days, a week tops, and then they’d each be back to thinking the other was an asshole. I also wasn’t surprised that Jake hadn’t come through with his promise of getting us in for free and that Maddie showed up with empty pockets. I was $10 poorer and irritated as hell, so I hoped at least one of the bands wouldn’t suck ass.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">But three bands in, I was starting to lose that hope. I was hot, sweaty, and seriously underwhelmed. A punk band who’d only mastered two of the three chords needed to play their songs was on stage and making my ears bleed when someone wrapped their arms around my waist from behind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Hey, sexy,” a deep voice said just beside my ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I relaxed and tensed at the same time. Relaxed because at least I wasn’t being accosted by a stranger. Tensed because I really, really</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone’s shit.<br />“Hey, Sean.” I wormed my way out of his hold, glancing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">around to see if anyone was watching, but still ended up stuck in a sort of sideways hug that left his slightly sweaty armpit over my shoulder. He smelled like Old Spice deodorant and really rank weed. Not the best combo, but I’d dealt with worse. His hand drooped over my other shoulder, dangling perilously close to my boob. He took a slightly classier route and plucked at the bra strap peeking out from the tank top underneath my cardigan instead, running his finger underneath the satiny material, down, down, down... I shivered despite myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“You look hot tonight.”<br />“Thanks. You look high as shit.”<br />He giggled and I pushed away from him. When he was high,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">he was even more clueless than usual. And handsy.<br />He didn’t seem to mind the brush off, but that didn’t mean he</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">wouldn’t keep trying. He leaned closer to be heard over the music. “What are you up to?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I gestured at the crowd around and then to the guys on stage. It was pretty obvious, but Sean wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. “Just checking out the bands.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">“Cool, cool.” He nodded and pushed his hair back from his eyes in a move that I admitted made me just a little bit swoony. He had pretty arms. “So maybe after the show is over...”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Sean said something else, but a sweet Peavey 6505 being carted on stage grabbed my attention. The punk band had finished their set. I couldn’t tell if they’d played more than one song since it had all sounded the same, with barely a ten-second pause between renewed bouts of screaming. This new group had much better gear. I could only see bits and pieces because the crowd was thicker near the stage and I was so damned short, but I was impressed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Until they were about a couple of verses into their first song. I cringed as the drummer missed a beat. Then the guitarist missed another note and continued not to notice he was out of tune.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">They weren’t terrible, exactly. The song was a little predictable—a cover I’d heard done a million times—but it had a good beat. But they played their instruments like a bunch of rich boys who thought it might be cool to be in a band. Maybe because it would get them chicks. Even if they liked the music they played, they hadn’t</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">dedicated enough time to practicing and getting it right. I’d seen it happen before. People who thought expensive or even overpriced equipment would hide the fact they didn’t fully comprehend the instrument in their hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Looking around the crowd, it seemed like everyone was into it. Bobbing their heads and listening intently. Girls, falling for the trap, pushed closer to the stage, forming a barrier of skirts, eyeliner, and tight tank tops between the crowd and the band.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">The guitarist missed another note that went unnoticed by everyone else in the building, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">how </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">he was screwing up such a simple chorus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I turned to Sean who—surprise, surprise—was staring at my ass </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">while </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">he went on with whatever he was saying. Rolling my eyes, I told him I’d be right back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I needed to get closer to the stage. I popped up onto my tiptoes, trying to get a better look. I need to see exactly who—</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">I stopped. Someone slammed into me from behind and I clutched onto the shoulders of the guys in front of me to keep from falling face-first into the cement floor. They shouted something at me over the music, but I just snarled and pushed past them to get closer to the stage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">Because there was Grey Addams. On stage. Looking nothing like I remembered him looking in my fourth-period English class. Holding </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman,italic"; font-size: 12pt;">my fucking guitar</span><span style="font-family: "timesnewroman"; font-size: 12pt;">.</span><br />
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<b>Find (Not Quite) The Same Old Song at these links ---></b></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.evernightteen.com/not-quite-the-same-old-song-by-lindsey-ouimet/">Evernight Tee</a>n | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07QHJ6J1X?tag=books2read02-20">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/not-quite-the-same-old-song/id1457536921?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4">iTunes</a> | <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1131004329;jsessionid=38226EBC7F305ABCB4F8673949B0F0E4.prodny_store02-atgap16?ean=2940156025053&st=AFF&2sid=Draft2Digital_7968444_NA&sourceId=AFFDraft2Digital">B&N</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/not-quite-the-same-old-song">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.scribd.com/book/403040765/Not-Quite-The-Same-Old-Song">Scribd</a> | <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/930407?ref=draft2digital">Smashwords</a></b></div>
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<br />Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-5222061326521262032014-10-27T21:39:00.000-04:002014-10-27T21:39:07.506-04:00First Chapter: Aftermath: Guts and Glory by Tyler Robbins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Aftermath: Guts and Glory</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Tyler Robbins</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Blurb: </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>When the brother he idolized is killed in action in Afghanistan, Kyle Barrett is rocked to his core. With his only confidant gone, Kyle struggles to deal with the loss, while fighting to keep his hidden sexuality a secret from his parents. </strong><strong>If only he didn’t have to face them alone.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Army veteran, Ryder Bishop has returned from his final tour in Iraq, when severe PTSD forces him to seek help through a new counseling program back home in Texas. </strong><strong>Just when Ryder thinks he’s reached the end of his rope, he meets Kyle, and their lives take a remarkable turn.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Can the grieving brother and damaged soldier find the peace they so desperately need? Or will they become statistics when the aftermath of war hits too close to home?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b><strong>They might have shipped the soldier home, but his demons have come with him.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Be Warned: m/m sex, rimming, food play</span></strong></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Tyler Robbins</b></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Copyright © 2014</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
Barrett sat in an abandoned oil field, tightly gripping the wheel of his
brother’s ’56 Chevy pick-up, a few miles from the home where he had grown up.
He loved this truck, with the custom, midnight blue paint job and newly
refurbished leather interior, almost as much as he’d loved his brother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Tears
filled his eyes, and hate filled his heart as he caressed the vinyl dashboard,
still glistening from the coat of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Armor
All</i> protectant he’d applied only the day before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He’d
taken such good care of his brother’s prized possession, making sure every
detail was exactly as Wade had wanted, right down to the twenty-inch rims
they’d picked out together two weeks before Wade shipped out to Afghanistan.
Again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
caught a glimpse of himself as he adjusted the review mirror, and for a split
second, he could have sworn he’d seen his brother staring back. The gleam of
Wade’s piercing, baby-blues, a Barrett family signature, had haunted his dreams
for a solid week, and it killed Kyle to know he’d never look his brother in the
eye again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">I.E.D</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">That’s
what they called it. An improvised explosive device, designed to penetrate
steel, rip through flesh, and take out as many soldiers as possible with one
blast. Easy to make, especially in a world where illegal weapons were as common
as haggling over their price. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">The
sons of bitches didn’t fight face to face either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">They
cowered in holes, lying in wait, watching until the time came to savor the
carnage when their deadly traps killed more <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">infidels</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Self-righteous
bastards, with their twisted religious beliefs. Beliefs Kyle had given up
trying to understand long ago. After all, what sort of god deliberately led his
flock to slaughter, or expected such heinous acts to be committed in his name?
None Kyle believed in, that was for damn sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">But
then, Kyle hadn’t believed in much of anything for a long time now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade
never stood a chance, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t known the possibility
existed. He’d lost enough friends, so he knew better. Wade just never thought
it would ever happen to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
hadn’t either—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">naïve fools.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
leaned in and hugged the steering wheel as if he’d find comfort in the hard,
plastic coated metal. The very wheel his brother had always maneuvered so
skillfully, blazing a trail down every back road in the county.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">So
many of Kyle’s memories revolved around his older brother and the hunk of steel
now surrounding him. More memories should have continued to be made … but that
had changed. Now, all that remained was a hole in the family plot they’d be filling
far too soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle’s
knuckles flared white as the rage he’d struggled so hard to repress vied for an
opportunity to be loosed, a chance to break something, and destroy whatever got
in the way of release. The day was coming. Kyle sensed the gnawing in his gut,
but for today, he had to keep it in check. He had to honor Wade. He owed his
brother that much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Glaring
down at the dashboard, a flicker of light caught his eye. Trapped in the tiny
space between the windshield and dash vent, Kyle noticed the silver dollar that
had rolled into the crevasse the last time his brother had come home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
recalled reaching to dig it out, but Wade had told him to leave it, saying not
to touch it unless Kyle really needed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He
remembered clearly what his brother said.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
“You might not be able to hold it in your hands and touch it, but as long as </i>you<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> know it’s there, no matter what else
happens, you’ll always have </i>something.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade’s
haunting words echoed in Kyle’s ears now, bouncing around like some foreboding
premonition Kyle would never be able to understand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Maybe
Wade had believed the unthinkable had been possible after all. Maybe the
thoughtful words had been Wade’s way of preparing Kyle for what lay ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Screw him.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
pounded the seat beside him, his knuckles taking the brunt of the burn from the
leather. He doubled his fist and pressed it to his mouth, savoring the slight
sting ricocheting down his fingers as his raw, scraped skin made contact with
his lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">None
of it made sense. None of it ever would.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle’s
cell phone buzzed on the seat beside him. He glanced over, picked it up, and
clicked the little red button, rejecting the call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">It
was Reesa—again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He
couldn’t talk to her. Not now. What would he say? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hey, I’m sorry my brother’s dead. Hope you get over it soon, and move
on with your life?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Theresa
Garland and Wade had dated on and off since they were sixteen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">When
Wade left for Afghanistan, he’d tried his best to let her down easy, but Reesa
wasn’t the type to give up because a few thousand miles separated her from her
high school sweetheart. She’d written Wade faithfully, and had made it a point
to check in on their mom from time to time. Hell, she’d even come to
Thanksgiving dinner and actually brought Wade’s favorite green bean casserole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
appreciated the gesture, not to mention her great cooking skills, but he
couldn’t stand to hear whatever pain might accompany her sweet voice. It would
only add to the anger already wrenching Kyle’s insides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He
reached over, popped open the glove compartment, and pulled out a photograph
Wade had left along with his insurance and roadside assistance cards. The photo
of Kyle, Reesa and Wade, had been taken a few weeks after Wade’s high school
graduation, before he’d left for boot camp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">As
Kyle stared at the photo now, he remembered a conversation he’d had with Wade a
short time later when Wade had come home on leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">“I don’t know what to do about Reesa, man.”
Wade tapped his dog tags against his pursed lips, staring straight ahead. “I
tried to get her to move on, but she still kept writing.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">“So, you </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">don’t<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> want to have anything to do
with her anymore?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade’s expression contorted. “No. Just the
opposite, but it’s not fair. No matter how much I care about her, isn’t it
selfish to keep her on the line when I’m half a world away for months at a
time?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle shrugged. “Isn’t it worse to push her
away when you feel so strongly about her?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade cocked his head to the side. His gaze
zeroed in on whatever had held his attention outside of the truck, but he
didn’t reply.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle fidgeted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable
with the topic of discussion. “You do feel the same, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade sighed and closed his eyes. “Sometimes
her letters and just knowing she’s here … praying for me, worrying about me …
makes the time fly faster.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle looked across the dusty field at the “</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Posted”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
sign dangling from the fence. How many times had they trespassed onto private
property to blow off some steam, break up the monotony? “Maybe it’s like coming
here. Signs are posted telling us not to, but we do it anyway because it’s
where we’ve always come to get away. Maybe Reesa is your oilfield, that place
you can be yourself and forget all the crap. The situation might be dangerous
where your heart is concerned, but it feels too right to stay away.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade’s brow creased, and he actually looked
surprised. “How the hell did you get so damn smart?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle blushed, embarrassed by his sappy
comparison. He forced a chuckle to play-off his sincere emotions concerning the
words he’d said. He understood the need for something to hold on to, something
to stifle the fear of his brother’s life being on the line half a world away
knowing there was nothing he could do about it. “Not smart, just trying to make
sense of it all.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade reached across the truck and squeezed
Kyle’s shoulder. “At least I don’t have to worry about you. You have shit
figured out just fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">****<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
cringed as the memory of Wade’s words echoed in his head. If only he was sure
he’d be just fine. The thought of it felt impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He
was right not to answer the phone. He couldn’t talk to Reesa right now. Maybe
he could later at the funeral, if he absolutely had to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">It
was hard enough to look into his parents’ eyes and see the empty void staring
back at him. That void only Wade could have filled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">The
house had been deafeningly silent for days now, so hanging around hadn’t been
very comfortable. People came, brought food, paid their respects, and waited
for final arrangements to be made. That hadn’t taken long since all that
remained of his brother amounted to a few mementoes consisting of his dog tags,
a leather brown journal full of drawings nobody had the balls to skim through
yet, and Wade’s wallet with a few charred photos and I.D.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Not
much considering how full Wade’s life had already been for a twenty-three year
old. It was all pretty much bullshit really. The entire life of someone who had
died for his country fitting neatly in a small metal container not much larger
than a shoebox.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
slipped the gearshift on the steering column into drive and held firmly to the
brake with his left foot while bearing down gently on the accelerator with his
right. The truck’s revving engine caused it to shake and rumble. The powerful
engine screamed for release, much the same way as Kyle’s fury. The back wheels
scraped and spun in the loose gravel beneath the truck, and the sound of rocks
flying echoed throughout the cab.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle’s
heart raced as the engine growled and grumbled until he finally lifted his left
foot and let it all go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">The
truck instantly pitched to the left and fishtailed, tires scrambling for
traction. More gravel flew, and Kyle slammed into the door as the wheel jerked
from his hands. He gained control, and held the wheel firmly, dragging it to
the left, causing the truck to drive in a tight circle. Kyle pressed on the
brake pedal again and floored the accelerator, forcing the vehicle to whirl
around in a furious ring of flying dirt and rocks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Dust
shrouded the truck and encased Kyle inside the man-made cloud, temporarily
shielding him from the reality of the truth he wished he could hide from
forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">His
brother was really gone. Nothing would change that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle’s
heart pounded as he recalled more memories of him and Wade ripping through the
field, spinning out, and laughing so hard his ribs had hurt for days. Now
though, he ached from the pain of loss, and from endless hours of crying like
some sniveling little kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Wade
would kick his ass if he knew. He’d tell Kyle to suck it up and be a man. He’d
remind him that real men weren’t pussies. They’re supposed to take bad news
like they would a punch in the gut: biting down, grinning and bearing it,
savoring the burn, and storing it up as fuel to retaliate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Whom
could he fight though? His enemy was on the other side of the world, nameless,
faceless murderers, hidden in some desert, oblivious to the aftermath of
shattered lives their evil deeds had left in their wake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Kyle
clenched his jaw and let go of the wheel, leaving his fate up to chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">The
truck lunged again, flinging him backward as it righted its path, and barreled
across the oilfield toward the abandoned control shed. Seconds ticked like
hours as the morning sunlight reflected off the shed’s sheet-metal roof,
blinding Kyle, and burning his eyes even through puddles of tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">He
glanced up into the rearview mirror, and once again saw his brother peering
back at him with an angry, heated scowl that Kyle translated as disgust, and
disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">A
rush of panic overcame him. Kyle jammed both feet onto the brake pedal and
resumed his death grip on the steering wheel as the truck skidded to a violent,
abrupt stop. His head slammed forward, and a stinging pain shot across his lips
and front teeth. The sudden metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He’d
busted his lip on the steering wheel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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deafening silence settled around him as the dust sifted to the ground, clearing
the air. Kyle sat back, his heart throbbing in his chest, a heavy ball of air
lodged in the back of his throat, and his head swirled with confused thoughts.
Had he lost his freakin’ mind? What the hell was he thinking?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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shook his head and swallowed hard before easing his trembling hand to the
gearshift and slipping it back into park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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like this, little bro.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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jumped, startled by the unexpected sound of Wade’s voice resonating beside him.
He shot a quick glance toward the empty passenger seat, half expecting to see
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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cool breeze splashed over him, and Kyle shrugged off the chill. “Wade?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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dragged in a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves. The shock of the tragedy
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way to carry on. If not for his own sake, then for his parents. They’d lost so
much already. Neither could survive the loss of yet another son. Not now. Not
like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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sat up, squared his shoulders and exhaled hard, alleviating the tightness in
his chest. One way or another he’d get through the next few hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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would be plenty of time to grieve later, and even more time to contemplate what
he would do next. For today though, he’d put on a brave face, head to the
cemetery, and say his goodbyes to the brother he loved and the solider who had
given his life for his country.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-25331956146045970912014-10-20T08:00:00.000-04:002014-10-20T08:00:09.337-04:00FIRST CHAPTER: You Taste So Sweet by Erin M. Leaf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>You Taste So Sweet</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Erin M. Leaf</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Blurb: </span></b></div>
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<strong><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When a meteor explodes over Atlanta, infecting the world with a virus that turns people into zombies, Lark knows survival will be difficult. Her roommate and best friend insists that her father and his best friend will come and save them, but Lark isn’t sure if she wants to put her life into the hands of strangers. Unfortunately, when the zombies come, she may have no choice. And when Ben and Dillon break into their dorm in the nick of time, Lark finds herself reevaluating her insistence on independence.</span></span></strong><br />
<strong><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></strong>
<strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tragedy brings them together. The fight to survive creates a bond stronger than blood in a few short days. What’s a girl to do when faced with the zombie apocalypse? Does she trust in the two men she knows will keep her alive, or does she strike out on her own?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></strong>
<em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Be Warned: menage sex (MMF)</span></strong></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: 21px; line-height: 24px;"><b>You Taste So Sweet</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Erin M. Leaf</b></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Copyright © 2014</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter One</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="CChpTitle">
You Taste So Sweet by Erin M. Leaf<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a>: Chapter
One</div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Olivia, they’re coming up the outside walls!” Lark yelled,
gripping the bat in her right hand so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingertips
anymore. Her heart beat so hard her head swam, but she refused to let the
adrenaline rushing through her system freak her out. She couldn’t afford to let
her guard down. Maybe if she lived through this she could have a good cry
later, but for now… She glanced out the window, pressing her lips together as
the zombies literally climbed up the sheer brick face of the dorm. “Shit! Get
the hairspray. We need to burn them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia was directly behind her in the room and her best friend
was breathing way too fast. If Olivia kept it up, she’d hyperventilate. That
would be bad. Lark couldn’t handle the zombies by herself. “Where’s the
lighter?” she asked, hoping to distract her roommate enough to calm her down. “Grab
it for me, too. No, wait, it’s in my pocket.” She fumbled it out, willing
herself to be calm. If she dropped it now, she’d have to duck down to pick it
up. She did not want to do that. The zombie below her bared his jagged teeth
and she fought down a shudder of revulsion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I don’t know where the hairspray is! I can’t find it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark listened to Olivia rummaging around in the nightstand. “Hurry,”
she urged, staring at the rotting face only a floor below her. He sniffed and
she swallowed hard. He could smell her. Not good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia cursed. “We don’t have enough hairspray to do any good.
It’s our last bottle. Forget it, just shut the window,” she said, frantic. “We
can’t risk it. My dad is coming—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Olivia, I swear to God, get the damn hairspray. We don’t have
time to argue about this.” Lark held out a hand, not even looking to make sure
Olivia listened. She couldn’t take her eyes off the creatures directly below
them. They were hideous: grey faces under scraggly hair, chunks of skin
missing. Every time she remembered that they were once human, and that some of
them might have been her friends, she wanted to vomit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<i><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Focus, Lark. No time to think of that now!</span></i><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">
she told herself, not for the first time. She adjusted her grip on the bat,
making sure she had a good hold. When Olivia slipped the cool bottle of
hairspray into her free palm, she tucked the bat under her arm and flicked her
lighter on in one smooth motion. “Stand back,” she warned, then leaned out the
window, lighting the aerosol. A tongue of flame shot down, catching the last
bits of ivy still clinging to the brick. It also caught the three zombies
clawing their way up. Their bodies flared, heat rising so fast Lark had to duck
back inside before she could tell if she’d got them all. She slammed the window
shut, hands shaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Are you okay?” Olivia asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Jesus, Olivia. That was close,” Lark replied, slumping down. “Why
didn’t you give me the can sooner?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“My dad is coming,” Olivia insisted again. “He’ll save us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark didn’t know what that had to do with anything. She still
had to keep the damn zombies from getting in <i>now</i>—they’d almost come up
to their freaking window! She eyed her friend tiredly: Olivia’s light brown hair
was haphazardly tied back and her fading summer tan didn’t disguise the
exhaustion in her face. Her red-rimmed green eyes glanced away apologetically
when she saw Lark glaring at her. Lark was fairly certain she looked just as
bad. She sighed. Olivia couldn’t change who she was just because the world was
ending. She depended on her dad. Lark’s parents were dead so she was a lot more
used to taking care of herself than Olivia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Even if he’s coming, that doesn’t mean I want to get eaten
before he gets here,” Lark offered, shifted the bat back into her hands. No
telling how soon she’d need it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia gave her a shaky smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” She
ran a shaky hand over her hair. “I’m just so tired. We haven’t slept in two
days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the muscle ache
from using the bat. “Doesn’t matter. If we want to live, we stay awake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I don’t know if I want to live anymore,” came the soft answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Anger rushed through her and Lark shot to her feet. “Shut up!
Just… No. We are going to live. What would your dad say if he could hear you?
Your Uncle Dillon?” She’d never met Olivia’s dad and his best friend, but from
what Olivia had told her, they sounded like good people. “How can you even say
that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia had turned away. “I dunno. My mom’s gone already, and now
I think it’s a blessing. It sucked at the time, you know. Her dying.” She
glanced over her shoulder at Lark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark <i>did</i> know. Her parents had died in a freak carbon
monoxide accident three years ago when she was nineteen. She’d missed a year of
college trying to deal with everything. “Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t mean
you should just give up, Olivia.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia lifted a shoulder. “It sure would be easier.” She moved
to the window and peered out. “The ivy is still burning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say. Olivia had
always been like this: fine one moment, depressed the next. She’d taken her
mother’s death from cancer hard. Even so, Lark didn’t understand why Olivia
found it so easy to just let herself disappear. She’d done it before—forgetting
to eat. Not getting out of bed. Even after all Lark had been through, she didn’t
react like that. Sometimes it made it hard to be Olivia’s friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I hope the building doesn’t catch fire,” Olivia murmured. She
was leaning against the windowsill now, as if zombies hadn’t just tried to
climb in that very spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Stop it, Olivia. You drive me crazy,” Lark said, using the only
weapon she had left to cheer up her friend. She poked her until Olivia laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Okay, okay. I’ll be good. Give me some of that chocolate,”
Olivia said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark dug under the mattress and pulled out their last bar. “This
is it, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia nodded solemnly. “Well, if you hadn’t barricaded the
floor, we’d be able to check the vending machines downstairs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Oh please, this again? We would’ve died if we hadn’t closed off
the doors. We were lucky the dorm was mostly empty because of the football game
or we would never have been able to lock ourselves in here.” Lark absently
broke the candy bar in half as she remembered dragging heavy furniture out of
the lounge to put in front of the stairwell doors. They’d kept themselves alive
for four days now. She wasn’t sure how much longer they could last without
doing something drastic. She offered Olivia some of the candy and then flopped
down on the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Yeah. Lucky,” Olivia said flatly, nibbling on the chocolate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was
a little older— <i>because twenty-two is so old</i>, she thought
sarcastically—or if it was because she’d been fending for herself for so long,
but she wasn’t as fatalistic about life as Olivia. She wanted to live. She’d
worked her ass off after high school, after her parents died, saving for
college. She was older than most of the rest of the students in her year, but
she didn’t care. Her parents would have wanted her to do everything she could
to have a life. She knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“When was the last time you heard from your dad?” she asked
Olivia, trying to distract her friend with something positive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Two days ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Two days ago. Okay,” Lark repeated. “So, he’ll be here really
soon. The meteor fell, what, a couple weeks ago?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Yeah. If he’s still alive,” Olivia said, predictably.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“You can’t think like that, Olivia. We know a few things: the
meteor was as big as the one that hit Russia last year. It broke apart in the
atmosphere and managed to infect a large part of the population with…” Here she
paused, trying to think of a way to put it. “With something that turns people
into zombies, as ridiculous as that sounds.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“It was ridiculous until it started spreading,” Olivia muttered.
“And they started eating people. Then it went from ridiculous to horrible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark ignored her and kept talking. “Your dad got in touch with
you before we lost the phones, and that was only a few days ago. Don’t forget,
he’s coming from where? Outside Philadelphia?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia nodded. “There is no way he’s going to make it. We’re on
the other side of the state from there. If he was going to make it, he’d be
here already,” she said, contradicting what she’d said just a few minutes ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark drew breath to sigh again, loud and dramatic so that Olivia
would know how aggravated she was, but a loud boom from the hall made her
flinch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“What was that?” Olivia asked, her voice rising. “Oh my God,
what was that?” She stood up and wrapped her arms around herself, eyes wide.
The chocolate she’d been holding fell to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark pushed herself up from the bed, stuffing the last of the
chocolate into her mouth. “I’ll go see,” she mumbled through the sweet treat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Oh, God. Be careful, Lark,” Olivia said, going with her to the
door. The boom sounded again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I think someone’s knocking on the stairwell door,” Lark said,
opening their door and peering into the hall. It was dark; only the emergency lighting
still worked. The audio-visual armoire she’d dragged in front of the metal door
was still secure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I’m going to bang on it,” she said, edging into the hall. She
checked both ways, still paranoid that something might have gotten in, but
there was no sign of anything. She took a deep breath and walked down to the
armoire. It wasn’t far from their door because the floor’s lounge was only a
few rooms down from them. When she got to the door, she lifted her bat and
banged on the top part, barely visible behind the furniture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">When another <i>boom-boom-boom</i> came from the door, she
jumped. She could hear some muffled shouting. “Is anyone there?” she yelled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Olivia?” a man’s voice called through the thick metal door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Oh my God, I think it’s your dad,” she called to her friend.
Her heart had started banging against her ribs again. Zombies didn’t talk. Even
if it wasn’t Olivia’s dad, he was human. She had to let him in. “I’m going to
move the armoire.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Are you sure?” Olivia came out into the hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“No, don’t come out here! Stay in the room. Seriously, Olivia.
We can’t risk both of us and if it isn’t your dad…” she trailed off, knowing
Olivia would understand all the things she didn’t say. Things like: <i>At least
you have family</i> and <i>If I die, no one will miss me.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">The <i>boom</i> sounded again, a little louder. “Jesus, hold
your damn horses,” she muttered under her breath, putting her back against the
heavy armoire. She heaved with all her strength. Another <i>boom</i> and then
she had the door exposed. She tapped on it with her bat. The returning <i>boom</i>
was slightly less frantic. “I’m going to open the door!” she yelled, hoping
they could hear her. “Stand back or you’ll get a whack in the head.” She
wondered if they’d take her seriously, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t
afford to be weak. If they were zombies, or infected, she’d push them down the
stairs with her bat and re-barricade the door, with no regrets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Is it them?” Olivia called anxiously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I don’t know yet.” Lark put her right foot on the handle,
balancing so she would have both hands free if she needed them. This way she
could lunge forward and put her weight behind her movement. “Okay, let’s do
this,” she murmured. Heart in her throat, she counted to five under her breath.
“Stay in the room with the door shut, ok?” she told Olivia. It wasn’t until she
heard the door click that she shoved down on the handle, then kicked the
stairwell door open. The moment she set eyes on the men in the dim space, she
knew they weren’t zombies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Benedict Greene, Ben to his friends, stared at the ridiculously
beautiful woman holding the bat over her head. She had light blond hair cut in
funky chunks so that it slid over her shoulders as she moved. Her light grey
eyes snapped with bravado and he could tell by the way she held the bat that
she wasn’t afraid to use it. The fact that she was tiny didn’t seem to faze her
at all. <i>Good lord, she barely comes up to my shoulder,</i> he thought,
smiling tentatively at her. She wasn’t a zombie, <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">thank God<i>,</i></span> but she also she wasn’t his daughter. “Are you
Lark?” he asked, knowing his daughter’s roommate had holed up with her. In
fact, he was pretty certain the only reason Olivia was still alive was because
her roommate had an innate instinct for survival. He’d figured that out after
numerous phone conversations with Olivia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">She slowly lowered the bat. “Mr. Greene?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Benedict stared at her, trying to think. He was so damn tired,
and the woman in front of him was so freaking beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Mr. Greene is a little formal for the zombie apocalypse, don’t
you think?” his best friend Dillon said from behind him, saving him from being
a total idiot, like usual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">The woman’s eyes snapped to his best friend and she lifted her
eyebrows. “You must be ‘Uncle Dillon,’” she said, the fingers on her bat
twitching as if she wanted to use air quotes to emphasize her statement. She
refused to let go of the weapon, though. He liked that. She was plucky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Call me Ben,” he said, scraping his wits off the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I’m Lark. Lark Stone, Olivia’s roommate,” she said, stepping
back. She looked around, then studied him and Dillon closely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<i><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">She must be checking we aren’t infected,</span></i><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">
Ben thought approvingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">The moment they’d stepped through the door, she began shoving at
a huge entertainment center, trying to get it back across the entrance. She looked
like David fighting Goliath. He couldn’t believe she’d managed to move the
thing all by herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Leave it off,” he said. “We’ll be heading out again soon
enough. Is Olivia okay?” He’d managed to keep it together all through the
hellish ride here, but now he wanted to see his daughter. He might have been
way too young to have a kid when she was born, and he might not have been able
to see her as often as he’d liked when she was growing up because of her mom,
but he loved her, regardless. He needed to know Olivia was okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">She narrowed her eyes at him, but left off shoving at the
furniture. “She’s fine. This way.” She pivoted and led the way down the hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Ben glanced at Dillon and caught his friend looking at her ass.
He shoved at him, giving him a look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Dillon shrugged, smiling, then turned to scan the hall behind
them. Ben was having a hard enough time dealing with his sudden and completely
unwanted attraction to his daughter’s friend himself. The last thing he needed
was for Dillon to be just as stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">She stopped in front of a door and knocked three times. When
nothing happened, she frowned. “Shit,” she said under her breath. “Olivia?” she
called, louder. Still no response. “Jesus Christ, she was just standing there a
minute ago.” Lark’s voice was strained as she reached for the knob.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Fuck,” Ben said, shoving her aside and opening the door. What
he saw in the room made his blood run cold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark darted past Olivia’s dad, swinging her bat at the creature
latched onto her roommate’s arm. She didn’t cry out, or curse, or do anything
except concentrate on obliterating the zombie’s head. The thing was
half-burned, and only had one good arm, but his teeth, his fucking teeth were
intact and sunk deep into Olivia’s forearm. Lark couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t
see anything except the fucker’s mouth stuck to her best friend. The best
friend she’d ever had in her entire life, even with the moodiness. She would <i>not</i>
let this nightmare creature have Olivia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Die motherfucker,” she muttered, swinging again and again. She
banged at its face grimly, pointlessly, and then a blade came out of nowhere
and sliced through its neck like magic. The zombie’s eyes went white-hot, and
then the entire thing vaporized in a flash, leaving the acrid smell of ozone to
linger in the room like a shroud. “Fuck,” she said hoarsely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Olivia fell down, clutching her arm to her chest. Lark dropped
her bat and went to her knees next to her. She grabbed her friend’s hand and
looked up, tears screwing with her vision. Olivia’s hand was already cold,
dammit. Dillon, Olivia’s dad’s best friend held a machete over them, panting.
His face was white and he swallowed, hard, as though he needed desperately to
throw up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Fuck,” Lark said again as reality crashed back into her. She tossed
the bat out of the way and leaned over Olivia, ripping at the sheet on her bed.
She tied it around Olivia’s upper arm, tourniqueting the wound. In the back of
her mind, she knew it was too late, but she couldn’t accept that Olivia was
already gone. She just couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Dad,” Olivia said quietly, voice thick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark’s let go of the sheet as her heart broke. She looked at her
best friend’s face. <i>Fuck.</i> Olivia knew she was dead. “Olivia, don’t talk.
We’ll get you out of here,” she found herself saying, uselessly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Dad, I love you,” Olivia said, looking past Lark. Her eyes
shifted. “You too, Uncle Dillon.” She gritted her teeth and looked at Lark. “You’re
the sister I never had.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark’s face was wet, and she couldn’t see right. She felt Olivia’s
dad near her, his body large and warm and she had to stifle the urge not to
lean back to feel how alive he was. “You too, Olivia. You too,” she said
instead, clutching her friend’s hand. It felt wrong. Cold and corpse-like. The
stupid zombie virus worked so fucking fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Dad,” Olivia said again, and then he was even closer to Lark on
the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark stared at him, trying to decipher the look on his face,
then gave up. Nothing could be as horrible as losing a child, she realized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">He reached out, hand shaking, and touched her face. “It’s okay,
little Olivia,” he said, and Lark didn’t know how he did it, but he smiled at
his daughter. “It’s okay. You go to sleep now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark sucked in a horrible breath as she realized what he meant.
She had a moment to think, <i>oh no,</i> and then she understood. His green
eyes, so like Olivia’s, glittered with unshed tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“We love you, Olivia,” Dillon said, still standing. He looked
behind him quickly, then dropped down and kissed Olivia quickly on the forehead
before standing back up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Dad, take care of Lark,” Olivia managed, but her skin was
already changing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“No, no, no,” Lark said, gripping Olivia’s hand more tightly. “No—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“Promise—” Olivia said, eyes filming over. “Dillon, promise—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark looked at him just as he glanced at her. She wasn’t sure
she’d ever seen such devastation in a man’s eyes, but it didn’t scare her. She
understood. She’d felt the same way when her parents died. She felt the same
way now, with Olivia on the floor of their dorm, no longer laughing and alive.
Above them, Dillon stood sentinel, his face carved from granite. He was just as
wrecked as Mr. Greene— <i>no, he said to call him Ben,</i> Lark thought
idiotically. She forced herself to let go of Olivia’s hand and back up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“I promise,” Ben said, voice breaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">“We promise,” Dillon said, hands clenching on the machete so
hard his knuckles went white.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CNovelText">
<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Lark looked back at Olivia. Her friend smiled faintly, then her
head lolled to the side. “Oh, no. No,” she murmured as her best friend’s eyes
flashed white, then settled into dead grey. She blinked, and faster than she
could comprehend, Ben snatched the machete from Dillon’s hands and chopped her
head off with one horrible swipe. Olivia’s body flared white-hot, then vanished
with a crackle of electricity that had Lark choking. She staggered up, barely
making it to the bathroom before she vomited all the chocolate she’d just eaten
into the toilet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-13147661019209552522014-10-14T23:34:00.001-04:002014-10-14T23:34:53.262-04:00First Chapter Spotlight: FOREIGN EXCHANGE by Denise Jaden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Foreign Exchange</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>by Denise Jaden</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">BLURB: </b></div>
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<strong>Jamie Monroe has always played it safe. That is, until her live-for-the-moment best friend, Tristan, jets off to Italy on a student exchange program. Left alone with her part-time mother and her disabled brother, Jamie discovers that she is quite capable of taking her own risks, starting with her best friend’s hotter-than-hot older brother, Sawyer. </strong><br /><br /><strong>Sawyer and Tristan have been neighbors for years, but as Jamie grows closer to the family she thought she knew, she discovers some pretty big secrets—not only from her, but from each other. As she sinks deeper into their web of pretense, she suspects that her best friend may not be on a safe exchange program at all. Jamie sets off to Europe on a class trip with plans to meet up with Tristan, but when Tristan stops all communication, suddenly no one seems trustworthy, least of all the one person she was starting to trust—Sawyer.</strong></div>
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<em><strong>14+ due to sexuality, language, adult situations</strong></em></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">FOREIGN EXCHANGE</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Denise Jaden</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Copyright © 2014</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter One</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My best friend, Tristan,
believes people can have anything they want in life. They just have to want it
badly enough.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of course, she has...
Talent. Courage. Charisma.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When she first mentioned
applying for a European academic exchange program, I admit, I thought it was
too good to be true—that she might end up in Europe at the exact same time as
my class trip to Spain.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She’d made it happen,
though, just like she said she could. I have confidence she’ll make the next
part happen too. She’ll help me find my dad over there.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Which makes me think:
maybe getting what you want in life has something to do with having the right
kind of friends.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Everything will be
fine, Jamie. You’ll see,” Tristan says into my hair as I give her a long, hard,
goodbye hug. I try to believe her, but she’s so much better at playing things
cool. I’d give almost anything for her confidence.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve had daydreams that
as soon as she leaves, I’ll be like some kind of budding flower or butterfly
sprouting its wings. I’ll reinvent myself and surprise her when I show up in
Europe in two weeks, totally carefree and fearless. Like her.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I take a deep breath,
let it out slowly, and back away. <i>Everything will be fine, Jamie.
You’ll see.</i> I repeat her words in my head, hoping they’ll infuse into
me somehow. I paste on a nonchalant smile for the benefit of her parents.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As Mr. Bishop slides
Tristan’s red duffel bag into the trunk, her older brother barrels out the
front door and onto their driveway. I automatically avert my eyes.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Instead of a hug, he
races up and tickles Tristan’s ribs. Tristan shrieks, not even caring about the
attention she’s garnering from the neighbors. When you’re that pretty and have
modeled in front of multitudes of people, I guess you wouldn’t.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tristan smacks Sawyer on
the chest, then pulls him into something closer to a headlock than a hug, to
get him to stop tickling her. Now that his back is toward me, I can take him
in. He was away for the summer and this is the first time I’ve seen him up
close since he’s been back. They’re both almost six feet tall, but he’s bigger,
broader than the last time I saw him. His dark hair slinks well past his shirt
collar.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Before I can assess him
further, Tristan catches my eye over his shoulder. I dart my eyes away, but
then realizing how much it looks like I’m doing something wrong, I turn them
back to him, and then slowly to Tristan.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She mouths the word
“incest” to me.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I roll my eyes. Her
theory is that since she and I are more like sisters than neighbors, me having
any <i>thoughts</i> about Sawyer, other than how much of an annoyance
he is, would clearly be incestuous.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s a moot point.
Sawyer blows off the beautiful senior girls at Ainslea High. What on earth
would he want with me?</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Before I know it,
Tristan’s squealing again and stuffing her carry-on into the backseat.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“See <i>you all</i> later,”
Sawyer says, all drawly. He’s saying it just to get a rise out of Tristan,
either to annoy her or as a joke to calm her down. I can’t tell. Normally,
she’d come back with her own Southern mock-drawl, saying, <i>y’all</i>.
But today she doesn’t say a word or even react to Sawyer, which tells me she’s
actually really nervous.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Arrivederci! Buona
fortuna! Guadare!”</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I rattle off my own form of joking fun, and now she rolls
her eyes back at me. I’ve been speaking to her in Italian for the last month,
trying to convince her that the more she can pick up before she goes, the
easier it will be to get around and deal with her schooling. It’s the one area
I thought I could help, but she says she’ll get along just fine without my
silly phrases. I look at her beaming smile, and her long, designer-clad frame.
She’s probably right.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You have your
passport?” Mr. Bishop asks her.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes, <i>and</i> my
money <i>and</i> my traveler’s checks <i>and</i> all the
emergency numbers you gave me. I’ll be fine, <i>Dad</i>.” Tristan’s
teasing him, but she should appreciate her parents more for their concern. I
glance next door and wonder if Mom has even noticed my early absence.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“And you’ll email when
you get there? You should let us know when you get to Newark,” Mr. Bishop goes
on.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be
fine.” Tristan leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek, then flashes Sawyer
a thumbs-up. I’m not sure what that’s about, but I don’t often understand those
two. Usually when they’re in each other’s vicinity, they’re arguing, but I
guess the idea of having a three-month break from one another is doing wonders
for their camaraderie.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Even though I’m certain
I’ll miss Tristan the most out of anyone, at least I’ll get to see her in only
a couple of weeks. She’ll be traveling from Milan to Barcelona with her host
family and meeting me at the Barcelona airport when I arrive. Then we’ll find a
way to get me away from my class trip, so we can travel back to Milan and meet
up with my dad.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I give her one more hug
before sending her off, but sense she’s eager to go. She gets into the
backseat, telling her dad they should get a move on.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She keeps her eyes from
mine, which means she’s definitely nervous too. She just hides it better. She
doesn’t look my way again—I’m the only one who can read her this well—and I
watch her dark hair in the back window until she and her parents have driven
down our street and turned the corner.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now that Tristan’s out
of reach and will be in the home of a new family within twenty-four hours, it’s
all on me to keep our secret. </span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Soon,</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I tell myself for
the fiftieth time. <i>You can do this, Jamie.</i> <i>Just stick to
the plan.</i></span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I concentrate on slowing
my breathing.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You want a ride?”
Sawyer’s voice makes me jump and release my breath with a ridiculous,
“Oh-whaaa?” sound. I snap my mouth shut, feeling my cheeks warm. I’m so used to
avoiding his gaze that it takes me a second to turn and make sure he’s talking
to me. But there’s no one else around.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tristan has never allowed
us to ride to school with Sawyer, even though we all go to the same high
school. As much as they joke around, Tristan has a jealous streak for her
brother that runs deep. The latest vein was opened in early Spring, when Mr.
and Mrs. Bishop decided to share a vehicle and gave Sawyer their Jeep.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Um...”</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Come on. Hop in,” he
says, like he doesn’t notice my hesitation.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I glance at my phone,
and it is already ten after eight. I’ll probably be late if I walk... not to
mention, the idea of walking all by myself doesn’t sound thrilling. Tristan
would understand. Or even if she wouldn’t, maybe she doesn’t have to hear about
it. She’s not going to talk to Sawyer for three months, and I can keep a
secret. I mean, what’s one more?</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Besides, if I want to be
a more confident Jamie––if I’m really starting now––this could be my first bold
move.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I already have my book
bag with me, so I walk across the driveway and hold my breath getting into the
passenger side of Sawyer's Jeep. For all Tristan’s gone on about Sawyer’s
slutty lifestyle, I’m expecting the whole interior of his vehicle to smell like
sex. Not that I’d have any clue what that smells like. When he gets in on the
driver’s side, I have to let my breath out.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All I smell is leather.
And him—kind of a fabric softener/vanilla mix. His smell isn’t really like
vanilla, I’m realizing as I inhale again. It’s spicier, and without thinking, I
ask, “What cologne do you wear?”</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He looks at me for a
hint of a second, then back at the front of the Jeep. He hasn’t started it yet,
and the pause before he answers feels long. I shouldn’t be doing this. I really
shouldn’t be riding with him ten seconds after Tristan left.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Jean Paul Gaultier. You
like it?”</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mostly I like the way he
says it, with a French accent, but not a completely natural one. It reminds me
of when I was six and I lived with my grandparents in Quebec for the year. All
my French vocabulary had sounded a little forced, but my grandparents looked so
proud each time I tried. Sawyer really tries too, and I love the way it sounds
on him. I swallow and nod.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After a few more
uncomfortable seconds, he starts up the Jeep, and the leather seats hug me all
the way down our street. They’re black, like the exterior, and there’s a
console separating us. I keep getting flashes of Sawyer reaching over and
putting his hand on mine, or on my thigh.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Each time one of these
thoughts pops into my head, I mentally reprimand myself. Isn’t it bad enough
that I’m catching a ride with him? If Tristan could see inside my head right
now, she’d check herself into a psych ward, thinking she’d gone crazy. Or she’d
check us both into one. The truth is, I don’t know what’s come over me.
Tristan’s usually the one who can’t stop talking about kissing, and other <i>things</i> she
has far more experience in than me. Maybe I am becoming more like her … but
with her brother?</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“So you don’t think it’s
unfair that you always get to use the Jeep?” I don’t know why I ask this. Maybe
I want to remind myself why I should <i>not</i> be thinking of him
this way.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sawyer pulls into the
school parking lot and I’m amazed we got here so fast. “Mom and Dad got used to
sharing and I need it for work.” He shrugs.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Work?</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Is that what he
calls it when he prowls the college campus for dates on weekends? I obviously
don’t know the whole story. He’s probably gotten some part-time job to convince
his parents to let him take off to Detroit with the Jeep. But the way he says
it, I’m not sure he understands that I was asking about the unfairness to <i>Tristan</i>. </span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He pulls into a parking
spot and lets out a breath. There’s already a group of girls headed toward his
Jeep, which is nothing new, but I guess I had been hoping we could at least
walk into the school together, so I wouldn’t have to walk in alone on my first
day of junior year.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Since seventh grade, Tristan’s
made me feel like I don’t have to be the shy kid that gets bullied or forgotten
in a corner. Sure, we're a vertically ridiculous pair—especially when she wears
heels—but at the thought of walking the halls on a “first day” without her, all
those insecurities come creeping back. Suddenly the idea of reinventing myself
in two weeks seems ridiculous.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I turn to Sawyer, not
about to ask, but wishing he’d offer. With all the girls headed our way, I know
I’m kidding myself. I’m not expecting him to even glance in my direction, but
he does. And the second he does, what do I do? Do I smile and say thanks for
the ride, like a girl who’s completely in control of herself around the guy
with an ego bigger than the state of Michigan? No. My eyes won’t budge. They’re
locked onto his with a magnetic force strong enough to wipe out any hard drive.
I swear he does this intense-gaze-thing on purpose to get a reaction out of me.
And to be honest, I’m not much of an eyes person. I couldn’t even tell you what
color his are.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Okay, they’re brown. But
it’s not like they’re some special, melted chocolate, dreamy,
windows-to-the-soul type of brown. They’re pretty plain, really, as eyes go.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Okay, they’re not.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His smile falters, like
everything is suddenly serious. For one long second, it feels like he’s as
dazed as I am.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then there’s a sound. A
knock to the front of his Jeep, and it’s enough to kick me out of my stupor. A
blonde girl, Jessica Leverman, is waving at Sawyer through the windshield. She
must be the knocker. Or at least she has the knockers––much bigger ones than
mine.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I take that as my cue
and open my door.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> The girls have all
reached Sawyer by the time he gets out. They giggle, all trying to talk over
one another to say hi. I group these girls together in my mind because they all
speak the same language. It’s a hair-flipping, nail-analyzing, arm-touching
language. I specialize in languages—besides the four I speak, I’m also fairly
fluent in ASL, thanks to my baby brother who can't talk. With all this language
training, I consider myself somewhat of an expert in body language. So I know
without having to do much analysis, these girls won’t say a single word to me,
because the longer it takes me to back off, the longer Sawyer’s attention won’t
be fully on them.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sawyer lifts an arm to
wave to me, but in the process makes himself more accessible. Not missing this,
Jessica reaches over to touch his arm. As if he can feel it coming, he shifts
away and pulls back.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Aw, two points missed
for Jessica.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Seriously. There’s a
whole point system and it’s written on the back of the disabled stall in the
upstairs bathroom: Two points for touching Sawyer’s outer extremities. Five,
for anything closer in. Twenty points if Sawyer touches you on purpose. There
are only three twenty-pointers on the whole tally, and those are just hearsay,
because none of them go to Ainslea High. I'm certain that's why Sawyer wears
long sleeves so often—to tease us with his inaccessibility.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sawyer’s grin tells me
he’s eating up the attention. When I close the Jeep door, the girls stop and
stare at me momentarily. Why would <i>I </i>be getting out of
Sawyer’s Jeep? The question is written all over their faces. Even if I am his
sister’s best friend, everyone seems to know how <i>not</i> normal
this is.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Um, thanks for the ride,
Sawyer.” I say the words more to his Jeep than to him, and back away, trying
hard not to feel like the friendless geek of the group.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Girls always want what
they can’t have, and I know in the recesses of my mind that’s the only reason
I’ve never been able to take my eyes off of Sawyer Bishop.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Without Tristan here to
keep me in check, I’m just like the rest of them.</span><span style="color: black; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-62368202185350090292014-09-30T07:49:00.000-04:002014-09-30T07:49:14.241-04:00FIRST CHAPTER: Black Abaddon by Sasha Hibbs #YA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Black Abaddon<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Vulcan Legacies #2)<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">by: Sasha Hibbs<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">BLURB: </b></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Vulcan Legacies, 2</span></em><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ally Watson struggles to live with the choices she made, the worst of which resulted in her soul mate's death. Michael’s sacrifice to save the girl he loved may have reversed the Apocalypse, but not the permanent damage inflicted by living with his loss. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></strong>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ally begins a journey where she soon discovers that death is not always the end, but sometimes the very beginning. With old friends, she journeys to the Nosferatu Nation where she meets with new alliances willing to help her in her quest to defeat the Devourer. At every turn, Ally unearths secrets that threaten to destroy those she loves.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></strong>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The second installment of The Vulcan Legacies series will put Ally to the ultimate test, forcing her to face her fears and the true destiny she will fulfill as Azrael, the Seraph of Death. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></strong></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">BLACK ABADDON, Book 2<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a> in the VULCAN LEGACIES</span><!--EndFragment-->
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">Sasha Hibbs </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">Copyright © 2014</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: large;"> ~ Chapter One ~ </span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">It was
abnormally cold for a southern summer day. The raindrops pelting against Ally
chilled her to the bone. She stood in His Eternal Garden. It was the only
cemetery in Snow Creek, North Carolina, and also the final resting place of
Michael’s mother, Lilith Blackwell. Today, His Eternal Garden was gaining
another member of the Blackwell family. Uncle Argyle decided to break the
horrible news to Michael’s grandmother. Telling someone their only grandchild
died wasn’t the kind of news you delivered via phone. He went to Florida only
to find an empty shell of what once was Grandma Blackwell. She had progressive
dementia and had been moved to an assisted living facility. Uncle Argyle came
back without even telling her. Ally wondered if Grandma Blackwell would have
been able to even register what Ally had done, and thought that maybe her
debilitating neurological system was a blessing in disguise. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Ashes
to ashes, dust to dust….” Ally heard Belle Crow say, as the High Sons of
Nashoba stood on either side of Michael’s long shiny black coffin waiting to
lower him into the ground. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">A slide
show of the last several weeks played through her mind as she waited for the
cold ground below to swallow up her beloved Michael and take him away from her
forever. Ally graduated from Mitchell High. She and the twins, Jessica and
Dave, had plans mapped out of attending North Carolina State University. She
hated to leave the farm and her uncle, but she yearned to taste life through a
normal college experience. And then all hell broke loose. In the course of a
few days she had been introduced to necrosapiens, also known as the evil
undead, Seraphs, Nosferatu, The High Sons of Nashoba, and Gypsies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She had
been overloaded with prophecies, predictions, and manipulated by what she was
supposed to do. Instead of listening to her heart and following her feelings,
she had allowed herself to be like clay on a potter’s wheel, and Marik—The
Devourer incarnate—had been the one to shape her into his version of Azrael,
the Seraph of Death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
was so blinded by his cunning words, it had cost her Michael. Ally had been put
through the sacrament of love—a test designed by the Authority—one where she
could tip the scales towards preventing the Apocalypse or be the cause of it.
All she had to do was choose correctly. So simple. But Ally didn’t. She made
the wrong choice even though the right one had been in front of her her entire
life, and Michael paid the price for her, for the whole world, with his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
looked around. Michael had no family here. In the end, Ally, Dave, Jessica,
Elizabeth, the Ravenscraft sisters, Belle Crow, the High Sons, Lucy, Uncle
Argyle, Parthenia, and Brandi were the only ones attending Michael’s funeral. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Belle
Crow finished her sermon, a mix of Gypsy and contemporary tradition, as the
High Sons lowered Michael’s coffin into the ground. Uncle Argyle and the High
Sons began shoveling dirt into Michael’s grave. Large clumps of dirt reverberating
off the casket was the only sound heard. All was silent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
looked up. Tears ran down Jessica’s face. Dave’s chin quivered. Brandi and
Parthenia’s eyes were downcast, their faces a mask of sorrow. Her beautiful
black German Shepherd, Miss Elma—the guard chosen for Ally from the Gates—lay
beside Michael’s grave. She was in pain, too. Ally could see it in her sad
hazel eyes. Griselda and Irini Ravenscraft walked up beside Belle Crow. As
their eldest sister Denaulda began humming in her soft sweet voice, Belle Crow
tapped her staff, glittery purple light shooting out into the air. Each purple
spark sizzled out as they collided with soft drops of rain reminding Ally of
Michael’s essence: his light had been extinguished too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Denaulda’s
soft tune soon turned into a heart wrenching melody as she lifted her voice.
Ally could deal with silence, but Denaulda’s tune wrapped tightly around her
heart, so tight Ally felt it would burst. Her knees buckled as Uncle Argyle
came up behind her, catching her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I’ve
got you,” Uncle Argyle said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
looked into his eyes. Words weren’t needed at a time like this. He clung onto
her as she looked back to the High Sons shoveling the last bit of earth over
Michael’s grave. Hot tears streamed down her face. When all her tears finally
dried up, she would still weep inwardly. Time would never erase the missed
opportunities she should have had with Michael. Time would never ease her guilt
at the events that led up to that horrific night on the beach when Michael paid
for her sins. And time would never remove that moment, that one moment in time
when Ally first realized it had been Michael her mother had saved all long. It
was as though Ally was still in that hospital room with Michael, the
recognition of those arctic blue eyes staring back at her. She could never
scrub her memory clean. Those stains were there permanently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
hid something, too. When her mother forced her back into the present, some
things, some pieces of her, were left behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dared not question why, but her wings were gone, as
though clipped. Maybe it was a small punishment for her choosing the Devourer,
like the Authority himself had cast her from the Gates as he did Vulcan all
those years ago. She felt different, too. She didn’t know how long she could
conceal the black vein-like patterns spreading on her skin. Since waking into
the present, it was as though her body had physically been altered. What did
her mother do to her when she grabbed her dreamcatcher? It was as though her
immortality had been spilt down the middle. Ally could feel this nameless
change in her soul. She wasn’t the same. And the biggest secret was her fire
had diminished into nothing more than her palms glowing. It was like she was
dying. But yet here she stood, half of what she once was and still drawing air
into her lungs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Let’s
go home,” Uncle Argyle said, hugging Ally’s shoulders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
let him lead her in whatever direction he chose to go. She was too numb to do
anything other than be led around like a lost lamb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
group followed behind Ally and Argyle. As they stepped through the entrance of
His Eternal Garden, Belle Crow froze in her tracks. A growl reverberated from
Eli as Jeb and Solomon looked behind them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
leaned into Uncle Argyle as she turned around to see what had them spooked. The
rain died to a drizzle. Ally could see nothing but the rows of head stones His
Eternal Garden housed within. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Mom, I
feel something…” Dave said, his words cut off by Elizabeth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Shh. I
do too.” She held up her hand to silence him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Eli
closed the gap between him and Jessica. Brandi and Parthenia, however, wore
looks of astonishment and pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Belle
Crow struck her staff on the ground, the purple stone erupting in fire. The
blaze shot out into the distance, the purple globe spreading out as though
trying to ensnare something in the air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">At
once, her mystical globe burst into small shards of glass, raining down on them
as Silva swooped low to the ground. Her mother’s guard—an ivory white
pelican—flew towards them. Landing on the ground at Ally’s feet, Silva looked
up to Ally. Silva had somehow managed to live, although Ally’s mother, Laurel,
the Seraph of Faith, had died years ago. Heavenly guards and their Seraphs did
not exist without the other, but Silva somehow did. And she had tried to take
Ally to the truth. Silva managed to show up at the oddest times, in the
strangest places. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Silva….”
Brandi said, visibly shaken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“This
guard was our sister's. There is no danger…” Parthenia said as Eli cut her off.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,
there is. It’s not the guard, but those that follow her that is dangerous,” Eli
said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Silva’s
wings twitched as though she were growing anxious. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“She’s
trying to warn us,” Brandi said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“No, I
don’t think so,” Belle Crow said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“She
brings someone with her,” Denaulda said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Not
someone. Nosferatu. I can smell them, two, maybe three,” Eli said, his guard
still up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
looked beyond the hill behind His Eternal Garden. As she did, the rest followed
her gaze, waiting to see who Silva led to them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">A
figure came into view, then another and finally a third. Small, petite. They
were female Nosferatu. Ally couldn’t see their faces for the black veils that
covered them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It’s
still daylight. Will it not burn them?” Dave whispered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“It’s
overcast. The veils are to protect them against any rays of light,” Jeb
answered. Since Dave’s transformation into a Nashoba, Jeb had taken him under
his wing. His girlfriend Lucy began teaching him their ways and history while
Jeb instructed him on instinct, tracking, and control. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Who
are they? Why are they here?” Jessica asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Silva
led them here,” Ally said, mechanically stating the obvious. She strained to
see them through her red and swollen eyes. As they came closer into view, Ally
briefly thought of Marik. He was the only Nosferatu she met and nothing good
came from that introduction. What became of him? Was he still imprisoned within
the Devourer? While the Devourer masqueraded as Marik, a prince of the
Nosferatu Nation and Michael’s brother by blood, was there any consciousness
that remained of Marik? Did he even know the Devourer used him physically to
kill his own brother? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
three Nosferatu stopped a few feet away. Ally noticed the two on either side of
the Nosferatu in the middle. They each rested a hand on the hilt of what Ally
believed to be swords, as though protecting her. The Nosferatu in the middle
stepped out away from the other two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Why
have you come here?” Belle Crow took a few steps towards the Nosferatu. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Silva
flew towards the one that singled herself out. She gracefully landed, perching
herself on a shoulder as though indicating there was no harm meant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
Nosferatu eased her veil up, long blonde hair spilling out around her
shoulders. She tilted her head up. Her voice was soft as she said, “My nation
has been attacked by necrosapiens. This creature saved us and led us here. We
come in peace. But there are questions, many, many questions I have, and I’m
hoping someone here can answer them.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“We are
in mourning. Who are you to show disregard for our dead?” Eli said, the
hostility in his voice clear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She
lifted her veil then, exposing her icy blue eyes, irises that were a mirroring
image of another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Ally
froze in disbelief. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I am
King Vladamant’s daughter, Mariah. And with one brother missing,” she looked
back sadly at Michael’s grave, “and my long lost twin brother dead, I assure
you, we are in mourning too.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-36435712226630357612014-09-22T12:43:00.001-04:002014-09-22T12:43:10.651-04:00PREVIEW CHAPTER ONE: Taking Chances by S.J. Maylee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Taking Chances<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">(The Love Projects #1)<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">by: S.J. Maylee<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">BLURB: </b></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Lydia’s father walked away from her
when she was eight. She’s struggled to not let him affect her, but fears she
wasn’t loveable enough to make him stay. Jake wants to love one woman, but after
scaring the last woman he met outside of the club, he doubts he deserves the
right. She protects her heart by sticking with her fantasies and he lives by a
set of rules that excludes women who choose a vanilla lifestyle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The two will be kept in
a conference room working together until their special project is complete. If
Lydia and Jake hold tight to their bland lives, they’ll always yearn for love
that is out of reach. Together they find common ground, passion, and a reason
to take chances. Once they discover the grand possibilities of the love they
desire, they find themselves in the very place they tried never to be again,
facing unguaranteed loved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<strong><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">Taking Chances </span></strong><strong style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">(The Love Projects #1)</span></strong></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">S.J. Maylee </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">Copyright © 2014</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: large;"> ~ Chapter One ~ </span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lydia's
boss stared the team down. She squirmed in her seat and worked to contain her
fidget. The glower she recognized. Mr. Keller’s fiery gaze swept over every
person in the conference room. Praying he would skim right past her, she shrank
a smidge in her seat. The transition to their new product management database
had bombed. He wanted someone to blame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
team worked hard, and yet dozens of things had gone wrong, but no one deserved
to get chucked under the bus. Politics was never a strong suit for Lydia, and
neither was talking in front of a group. Who would enjoy sweating profusely and
forgetting all words except ah and um?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
threat of humiliation fired through her, making her eager for a solution. If
she could figure out a way to shift the meeting away from the possibility of
someone getting fired, she’d relax. An idea rolled about in her head, but not
even a drop of courage lingered within her reach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Keller,
the policies and procedures need strength and substance if we’re going to move
forward as a team with our new system.” Jake pushed back from the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
needed to add mind-reading to the list of Jake’s gifts. She’d had the exact
idea. It wasn’t the first time he offered a solution she’d been contemplating.
It often left her with the idea they’d get along well, which was ludicrous. Men
like Jake didn’t pay attention to a woman like Lydia. Hesitation was more her
style, and it certainly wasn’t Jake’s. As a department director, he made things
happen, and along the way he intimidated the heck out of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of
course she’d never been alone in a room with Jake, never even had a casual
conversation. Fortunately, he never sought her out. Whenever Jake neared, her
pulse raced, and naughty ideas filled her mind. Her fascination with him had
started on her first day with the company over a year ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
sidewalks had been a mess of snow and ice in front of their building that
morning. She’d picked style over practicality in shoes and was rewarded with a
slip and fall, flat on her butt. Jake had helped her up. He’d placed her purse
strap in one hand and held the other while he asked if she was okay.
Embarrassment might have flared through her, but his gaze had melted her, and
she hadn’t been able to think straight in his presence since.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
made her aware of her body, the way it heated and awakened. It wasn’t the
chiseled cheek bones, or his tall lean body that had to be fit as a Navy Seal.
Okay, maybe in her fantasies it was heaven to grab onto his thick neck and
shoulders. When Jake was around, she either got lost in a fantasy or felt like
a teenager worrying about her hair being flat, smudged mascara, or worse
things. What if he saw her nipples hardening? Luckily for her they worked in
two different departments and didn’t find themselves with the need to talk to
each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">If
she could get to know him she wouldn’t suffer so much. Most people had issues,
and if she could find his she wouldn’t be so intimidated. She had a long
history of finding flaws in people. First with her dad, she had been eight when
he left. She led a lonely existence and wore it like an armor, and it stopped
her from being let down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
think you’re onto something.” Boss man Keller usually agreed with Jake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Disappointment
ticked at her ragged nerves. Once again someone else was getting credit for an
idea she couldn’t voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For
Keller to ever agree with her, she'd have to have the audacity to speak about
her own ideas. Until she had the guts to offer her own opinion there would be
no recognition, no advancement. Soon it would be time to go back to her
familiar little box, a place she usually thought of as comfortable, a place
made easy to hold onto her armor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’d
like you to head the team on this.” Keller inclined his head toward Jake. “Pick
one of the technical writers from this table, lock yourselves in a room, and
get it done. I want a report tomorrow, my office, ten o’clock.” He stomped from
the room and took another opportunity to sneer at each of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
room, without Keller’s presence, grew eerily quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">All
attention turned to Jake. He towered over them as they waited for the chosen
partner to be selected. Whispers bubbled up around her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A
door slammed down the hall, probably Keller letting off some steam. She didn’t
want to think about Keller. She desperately wanted to fill her mind with one
idea, that she could be the technical writer Jake chose. He could choose her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
blocked out her surroundings, peeled back her protective layer and allowed herself
to feel. She bit her lower lip and sucked it into her mouth. She could be
locked in a room with Jake. Her mouth dried, and her heart pounded. She took
another look at Jake and drank in his dark features and the muscles she
imagined hidden under his blue collared shirt. A fantasy, starring the infamous
Jake, filled her imagination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He sauntered around the
table and stopped at her chair. His hand took hold of hers, and he pulled her
into his strong arms. Once he settled her bottom on the table, he stepped in
between her thighs. As he devoured her mouth in eager kisses, he popped the
buttons on her blouse, unclasped her bra, and exposed her. Powerful hands
molded her breasts. She let her needy body fall to the table to give him access
to every inch of her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Lydia.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
fantasy was in full swing now. Jake shouted her name. Oh, her name sounded
sinful on his lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Lydia!”
someone shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Something
pushed her elbow, and it fell awkwardly from the table, releasing her from her
inner thoughts. Everyone at the table stared her way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks
for rejoining us. Clear your calendar, and meet me back here in a half hour.”
Jake locked his gaze with hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes,
Sir … I mean, okay, I’ll be here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
couldn’t handle his powerful expression and dropped her stare to the table. It
was too intense, him standing there like an unyielding statue. Had she said
something wrong? Before an idea could enter her mind, he stormed from the room.
The rest of her department followed him like nothing tremendous happened. Just
like that, they went on with their day, talking about lunch plans and other
mundane things. Lydia, on the other hand, couldn’t move.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
had been a split second, but his eyes had narrowed in on her and dimmed to a
shade darker than black. It was intimidating, but she desperately wanted to see
it again. She should slap herself or pinch her arm. She was at work. This
wasn’t a time for fantasies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lydia
stood on shaky legs, her heart beating widely. She shuffled in a daze to her
cubicle to stare at her desk. She needed to calm down and ready herself for the
work ahead. Mindlessly, she refilled her favorite coffee mug. The deep
aromatics kicked her back to reality as the rich brew caressed her frazzled
nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
knew the new system inside and out, and she’d prove it today. Jake had made a
smart move in choosing her. A smile flirted with her mouth, but fizzled as
nerves danced for attention in her chest. If the nonsensical feelings were left
to fester she’d tumble into a panic attack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">They
had a big task in front of them. Loads of work would fill the day, and there
was no need to get emotional. Her brain heard all the reasonable thoughts, but
her body continued to brace against panic. She closed her eyes and concentrated
on the pace of her breathing. She needed a distraction. She opened her eyes and
found it in the mess on her desk. Her hands shifted pages, such a normal thing
for her to do, except she wasn’t reading a thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Figuring
out what polices to write could take the whole morning. She hoped the size of
the job would help keep her mind on the task. It was ludicrous to think Jake
selected her for any reason other than the job. She was a technical writer and
a logical choice for the task.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He picked me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her
department contained several people Jake could have chosen. He could have
selected Gina. She was familiar with the changes but would know more if she
didn’t spend a ridiculous amount of time socializing. Gina was a nice enough
girl and beautiful, too. Her dark hair and pale blue eyes were stunning. But
Jake didn’t choose Gina. It felt strange, but she liked Jake more for that
fact. Her breathing started to slow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re
not nervous are you, Lydia?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No,
why would I be?” Lydia looked up in time to see Gina sauntering over with a
smirk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,
don’t let Jake bowl you over.” Gina sat on the corner of her desk. “Make sure
he hears what you have to say. Jake’s a strong guy, and he doesn’t like meek
women.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks
for the tip, Gina.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How did Gina have any
idea what Jake preferred?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Gina was the type of girl she could see on Jake’s arm. The
two would look handsome together. Lydia didn’t have Gina’s shape or her pretty
features. Gina was clever, too. The guys often laughed at the things she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hurry
along now. You don’t want to make him wait.” Gina scurried her out of the cubicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lydia
grabbed hold of her mug, which was once again empty. She struggled to
straighten her blouse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
look fine, Lydia. Get moving.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fantastic,
now Lydia felt hurried and insecure. Shaking her head, she wound her way to the
conference room and was thankful when she found it empty. She left her things
on the table and shook out her arms as she walked to the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
ravine behind the building fascinated her. She took a moment to appreciate the
sprawling landscape, the varying shades of green, plants and mosses covering
most of the ground. Everything was coming back to life after a long winter.
Several trees lined each side of the ravine, and one had fallen across the
middle. An eagle soared across the sky, the hypnotic flap of the wings filling
her with strength and serenity. The peaceful view slowed her raging thoughts
and brought quiet peace to her senses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">. She wanted to laugh
for getting carried away to her dream land earlier. Naughty fantasies didn’t
belong in the middle of the work day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jake.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her
fingers grazed the cool surface of the window, and her imagination thrust her
into her earlier fantasy.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
had not expected to feel the pull of lust to Lydia, let alone the desire to
dominate her body. Sure, she called him Sir, and that alone would please many
dominants. The fact the formal address came from quiet Lydia’s lips made his
cock rock hard. He adjusted himself, but it didn’t help the building pressure.
He had a half hour to gather himself before getting locked in a room with her for
the rest of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
went through the motions of replying to emails and updating his projects.
Nothing required enough concentration to shake his thoughts from Lydia. How had
this woman grabbed his attention? She was the type you didn’t notice often, except
her frequent trips to refill her coffee mug. This morning might have been the
first time he heard her sweet voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now
all he could think about were the other things he had never noticed before,
such as the length of her long, brown hair and the intensity shining in her
hazel eyes. He could get a nice grip and pull her hair as he fucked her from
behind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Get control of yourself,
man. There will be no fucking</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">. It was a pity, because the curve of her
beautiful, full behind would look amazing with the red impression of his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey,
Jake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
jumped at the sound of Keller’s assistant’s voice and then shook his head. “Oh,
hey. Hi, Anne. I was lost in thought there for a second.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry,
didn’t mean to startle you, just wanted to see if you and Lydia would need
anything today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Typical
of Keller, he would want to make sure they were productive, but what else was
he up to? Keller always claimed he had nothing to do with the matches that
seemed to take hold after one of his strategic requests. In fact, Jake vaguely
remembered Keller talking about Lydia yesterday at lunch. Had the conversation
unknowingly put Lydia’s name in his mind this morning?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
only knew two things about Lydia before yesterday. She wrote their technical
instruction manuals, and she drank coffee like a chain smoker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ve
seen her caffeine addiction, so I’ve already set a fresh pot to brew. We’ll
work through lunch, so it would be great if you could order something for us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
probably knew Lydia. He should ask her … what? He already knew what he needed.
According to Keller, she was famously precise in her studies of their new
software. That’s why he’d picked her today. Lydia was the right person for the
job. Whether she was right for him was irrelevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure,
no problem, I’ll wait to hear from you. See you later, Jake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jake
would stick by the three promises he made a long time ago. First, he would
never again approach a woman outside of the kink clubs. Second, he would never
again scare a woman. He craved for a woman to willingly submit. Third, he was
not relationship material. His rules protected him, but more importantly, they
protected the women around him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Most
women at the clubs understood a Dom not wanting a relationship. It was his job,
as a Dom, to ensure no one got hurt, physically or emotionally. It was a big
job, but his rules handled most of the work. Even though Keller liked to employ
people he met at the club, none of his submissive coworkers were a match for
Jake, and his rules were intact.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">His
rules hadn’t been a problem until a few minutes ago when Lydia called him
“Sir”. She was probably vanilla. He wouldn’t find out, because their
conversation would stick to policies they needed to draft. There was a lot to
do in the next twenty-four hours, and he was thankful. He needed all the help
he could get to keep his mind off of Lydia’s assets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">On
his way out of his office he ran into his friend Simon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hi,
Simon.” The two friends fell in step with each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey,
man. I was hoping to run into you before your new project started.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
heard about that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure
did. I’ll handle the team meetings for you this week.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thanks.”
Jake clapped Simon across the shoulders. He could be an arrogant guy, but he
always watched everyone’s back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Simon
stopped walking and turned to Jake. “I wanted to warn you to be on the lookout.
I’m getting the feeling Keller is back in his covert match-making mode.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shit,
I was afraid of that. It’s been a while.” Keller knew about his rules. Jake
felt reasonably safe, but a tick of concern swiftly followed. He started
walking again, suddenly not as eager to see Lydia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
got a call from Charlie this morning that might cheer you up,” Simon said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Some
more meals from that Dominatrix would cheer me up. That woman can cook.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She
didn’t promise food, but she’s looking for some new trainers and wanted to know
if we were interested.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
might be able to survive the week with Lydia if he knew he had a sub waiting
for him on Friday night. “Yeah, sure, tell her I’ll be there Friday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Great,
I’ll go with you. I’ll tell her we’ll do it if she cooks for us Saturday
morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Simon,
I like the way you think.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
returned to the conference room early with the excuse of clearing the table.
Maybe his mind would calm by doing simple tasks. The door opened to reveal
Lydia with her back to him across the room. His body heated at the sight of
her. She looked out the window. He tried to do the same, but his gaze wouldn’t
detour from the slope of her neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">They
needed to work on drafting policies and procedures. His body didn’t want to
listen. Work is all they would be doing in this room. Visions of him
restraining her and demanding she submit filled his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
was in a lot of trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-16033347780728667302014-09-15T22:52:00.002-04:002014-09-18T18:49:16.599-04:00PREVIEW CHAPTER ONE: Colors of Us by Sandra Bunino #NewAdult<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Colors of Us</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Sandra Bunino</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">McAvery Brothers, 1</strong></div>
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<strong style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Everything she knew to be true fell apart. Then fell apart again…</em></strong></div>
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Michelle Willis is running from her past. What better place to hide than in the anonymity of New York City. Finding refuge in a tiny SoHo art gallery, she rebuilds her life one painting at a time.</div>
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A wrong turn sends Hunter McAvery on a crash course with disaster. He fights his own demons by following his big brother’s lead – drinking and bed-hopping his way through Manhattan.</div>
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A glance at Michelle’s self-portrait triggers emotions Hunter can’t tamp down. Driven to meet the artist, he discovers a fiery chemistry as their lives collide. But when their past threatens to tear them apart, can their love survive?</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 16.000000pt;">COLORS OF US
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,BoldItalic'; font-size: 14.000000pt;">McAvery Brothers, 1
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,BoldItalic'; font-size: 14.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Sandra Bunino
Copyright © 2014
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold';"><span style="font-size: large;">~Chapter One~</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Bold'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle woke with a gasp and sat straight up in her bed. Fear
slithered down her spine as she pulled the dampened sheet to her
chest. </span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Italic'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">It was just a dream. Just a dream. </span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Rubbing her temples, she
recalled the last time she’d had a nightmare. A month ago? Maybe
two. What used to be an almost nightly occurrence dwindled to one
every few months. The ever-increasing time between bad dreams
meant she’d come a long way from the day she’d stepped off the bus
at Penn Station and started a new life in The Big Apple.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">She rubbed the knot of tension under her shoulder. “Shake it
off, Willis. Everyone has nightmares once in a while,” she muttered
before taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly through her lips.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Sunlight streamed into her tiny studio, and the familiar
morning noises of her neighbors wrapped around her like a warm
blanket. The single mom with the stomping toddler in the apartment
above her, the elderly man from down the hall who shuffled past her
door on his way to the corner bakery, even the newlyweds next door
who enjoyed a lusty morning quickie before heading to work—all
provided a degree of comfort that everything was right in the world.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Stretching her arms, she caught her reflection in the mirror on
the wall. Light shadows replaced the dark circles that had once
resided under her eyes, thanks to sleep and her daily workout routine
in her building’s basement. She’d hoped to exchange sessions on the
worn-out treadmill with early morning runs through the streets of
neighboring Tribeca, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. Baby steps.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle slipped out of bed, padded across the room to her
kitchenette, and ripped open a store-brand oatmeal packet. Turning </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">the faucet knob to hot, she dumped the contents into a chipped mug
and held it under the steamy water for a moment. Flakes of dried oats
floated to the top as she sprinkled a packet of sugar over the meager
meal. Stirring the contents together, she moved to her closet and
kicked the door open. There wasn’t much to choose from in her tiny
storage space. A few pairs of black pants, blouses, and sweaters from
the consignment store made up her work wardrobe, yoga pants and
sweatshirts were weekend clothes, and one little black dress reserved
for gallery events.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The metal hangers rattled as she pulled her best pair of dress
slacks and black sweater from the closet and slipped them on. A quick
trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth, tie her long hair into a neat
bun, and swipe on some blush and lip gloss completed her morning
routine. She grabbed her backpack and rushed down two flights of
stairs to her second-hand bike, which was locked to the rack in the
narrow lobby. Turning the numbers to the correct combination, she
freed the chain from the lock and wound it around her seat. A gust of
wind ruffled a few strands of hair loose from her bun as she pushed
the front door open and walked her bike down the short flight of
cement stairs to the sidewalk.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Mounting her bike, she sucked the cool city air through her
nose and released it slowly from her mouth. The tight muscles in her
back relaxed while she pedaled, slow at first, until the light changed
and the cars emptied out of the side street. She pumped her feet and
rode as fast as they would take her to the end of the block, enjoying
the cool air hitting her face, making her feel alive. Turning left onto
busy Canal Street, she stopped pedaling, allowing the wheels to coast
on their own as she threaded between cars, street carts, and the
hundreds of pedestrians on Chinatown’s streets. The air nipped at her
knuckles, reminding her she’d need her knit gloves and hat soon.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">She wished she’d had a dollar for each time someone called
her crazy for riding a bike in Manhattan. There were more deaths of
city cyclists than any other accident in New York, well-meaning
people said. They never understood. Being perched on the seat of her
used bike meant security and control to Michelle. Every muscle in her
legs flexed and contracted with the rhythm of her tires along the
pavement, a feeling she never quite had while walking on the
sidewalk. Mass transit was out of the question for her. She’d never
forget how she’d felt like a trapped animal with nowhere to escape the
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">one and only time she rode the subway. Buses were out too, which
was why she paid the exorbitant rent for her little Chinatown studio.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Gliding onto Mercer Street, where the smooth city asphalt
turned into the original cobblestone streets, was her favorite part of
the ride. Every bump she hit as she passed galleries, shops,
restaurants, and lofts reminded her of how lucky she was to be living
and working in the trendy art district of SoHo. Her tires bounced over
the uneven road as she steered into the alley behind the gallery. Her
breaks squeaked and she coasted to a stop. Swinging her leg over the
bike’s frame, she leaned it on the fence while examining her
overgrown container garden.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Most of the fruits and vegetables had long been picked, not
that there were many in the small assortment of pots and planters
Miranda allowed her to keep in the narrow alley. A single red pepper
shone bright at the top of one of her staked plants. She twisted it off
by the stem and dropped it into her backpack before chaining her bike
to the fence. It was the last of the free, fresh additions to her plain
iceberg lettuce salad lunches. Pulling the cord that hung around her
neck from under her shirt, she found the key belonging to the gallery,
stuck it in the old lock, and turned it until she heard a click. Pushing
open the door, she entered Miranda’s office and studio.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Morning, sunshine,” her friend Cheyenne sang as her heels
clicked along the wood floor.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle closed the door and smiled at her friend. “Pink,
huh?” Cheyenne’s hair glowed like a cotton candy aura around her
face.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Cheyenne ran her fingers through her hair. “You like?” She
changed her hair color like most women changed their nail polish.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“It’s cute, but I still like the purple,” Michelle said as she
dropped her backpack onto the seat of the desk chair. “I can’t believe
it’s already the last Arts Walk of the season. Any action?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Nah, but it’s still early. With the summer tourists gone, we’ll
just get the well-heeled urbanites out for a girls’ day later this
afternoon after they’ve downed a few martinis.” Cheyenne tipped
back her head and made a drinking gesture with an imaginary
cocktail. SoHo’s Arts Walk event happened the third Thursday of
each month from May through September. Art galleries opened their
doors to visitors in hopes of making their somewhat-intimidating
spaces more accessible to curious window shoppers. Some served </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRoman; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0in;">refreshments, while others invited various artists to show their art and
chat with potential customers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle chuckled. She knew the rich girlfriend group type
well. There were three kinds of people who frequented SoHo’s
galleries: tourists, who never bought anything; rich housewives from
Manhattan and neighboring Connecticut and New Jersey, who acted
as though they were in the market for something but rarely made
purchases; and real art lovers, who artists hoped would fall in love
with their work. Most of the Arts Walk crowd belonged in the first
two categories, but Michelle didn’t mind. She loved the extra
visibility for her own work, which hung near the window in the
gallery.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Like many of her New York City peers, Michelle prayed
someone would fall in love with her work, or at least like it enough to
make a purchase. But unlike many of her counterparts, Michelle’s
work was on display in an actual SoHo gallery. Most new artists
waited years for an opportunity like it. It was sheer luck she had met
Miranda Locke two years ago. Michelle had been almost out of
money and had no clue what to do next. In Michelle’s eyes, Miranda
took pity on her when she walked into Locke Gallery for a job, but as
Miranda explained, it was Michelle’s work that won her over. “You’ll
make it big one day, little one” was one of the gallery owner’s
favorite sayings.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Any word from Miranda?” Her boss was in Europe on a
multicountry art tour, looking for new collections to bring to Locke
Gallery. Miranda was more than Michelle’s boss. She was her friend,
confidante, and the person who had made it possible for Michelle to
live and work in New York doing the only thing she’d ever wanted to
do. She missed chatting with Miranda on a daily basis and counted the
days until her closest friend returned home.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll message us later to see how the
Arts Walk went.”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle nodded and turned to the coffee machine perched on
the table in the office. “I need coffee. I’ll brew a pot, then meet you
up front.” She opened the cabinet where the coffee was kept.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Oh damn. I made the last of it yesterday and forgot to buy
more on my way in. But there were some free coffee coupons under
the door this morning from that new Primo Java place that opened
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">down the block.” Cheyenne pointed to the orange certificates on the
table. “If you feel like running over there, grab me a cup too.”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle eyed the colorful slips of paper. “Hey, we can’t turn
down free coffee, now, can we? Let’s get a fancy overpriced cup of
something sinful. Caramel macchiato, mocha brûlée, what’s your
poison?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about. I’ll leave it
up to you.” Cheyenne waved her hand and headed back to the main
gallery, her stilettos clicking along the hardwood floor.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle stuck the certificates in her pocket and followed
Cheyenne to the front. “I’ll surprise you with something yummy.”
Extras, like gourmet coffee drinks, weren’t in her budget, so it was a
rare but appreciated treat. Pushing open the gallery door, she pulled
her bun free from the elastic and shook her hair loose as the wind
combed through it and whipped the ends along her shoulders. She
tucked her chin to her chest and quickened her pace, thankful the
coffee shop was on the corner.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The leaves on the lone tree standing tall in the patch of dirt
dug into the sidewalk had already begun to change—yet another
reminder summer was almost over. She swung open the coffee shop
door, and the rich scent of brewed coffee wafted to her nostrils,
sending her taste buds into overdrive. The small shop buzzed with
activity. She scanned the gleaming floors and freshly painted walls. It
seemed the neighborhood approved of the new shop. Patrons with
their noses in laptops and tablets took up every available stool,
sipping from plastic-lidded cardboard cups at high tables. Shuffling to
the back of the line, she stood on her tiptoes and visually followed the
long parade of heads in line waiting to place an order. Michelle
estimated a twenty-minute wait at least, but she’d make the sacrifice
for a free cup of specialty coffee.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“You would’ve thought this was the only coffee shop in the
city,” a husky voice said behind her.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle turned and acknowledged the voice with a casual nod
while keeping her eyes averted downward. Her glance rested on a pair
of black boots—scuffed and broken-in, like old friends. She had a pair
just like them. Her gaze trailed to the frayed cuffs of worn jeans and
roamed up denim-wrapped muscular legs.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“But I guess I shouldn’t complain, since it’s a free cup of
coffee,” the graveled voice continued.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Her gaze made its journey along faded jeans to a certificate
identical to the ones she had. His thumbnail caught and released the
edge of the card, making a clicking noise. A hint of an intricate tattoo
peeking out of his leather jacket sleeve caught her eye. “Me too.”
Michelle dug the certificates out of her pocket and glanced at the
voice’s owner. She held her breath for a moment as she scanned his
face, starting with a firm mouth outlined with dark stubble that
extended past his square jaw. Her gaze roamed to shoulder-length hair
that covered one brown eye flecked with green. Realizing he was
aware of her stare, she glanced away as heat crept up her neck.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Those cookies look pretty good, though. I guess corporate
America knows what they’re doing with these chain restaurants. Send
local businesses a few freebies to get them into the shop, then hook
them on expensive coffee and baked goods.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle gladly focused on the pastry case so she didn’t gawk
at the man behind her. She spied her favorite cookie, peanut butter
chocolate chip, and licked her lips.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“You work around here?” he asked.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle turned to the stranger again. He closed some of the
space between them, leaving her an option to step back. An option she
chose not to take. He casually brushed the hair from his eye, revealing
a jagged scar above his eyebrow. Her fingers itched to reach up and
touch the imperfection that somehow seemed perfect on his face.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">His lips curled upward. “You don’t have to tell me. Shit. I
usually don’t chat up strangers.” He held up his index finger.
“Correction: I usually don’t chat up strangers in a coffee line. I chat
them up behind the bar. Occupational hazard.” He scrubbed his
fingers over the scruff on his face.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“I work in a gallery. I take it you’re at one of the bars,” she
said quietly.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“I’m at McAvery’s.” He tilted his head and smiled. “Ever go
there?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle tried not to stare at the way his lips showcased
straight white teeth. He could melt an icicle with his smile. She met
his gaze. “No, but I ride past it on my way to work. I love the facade.
It’s a great building.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">He nodded. “It’s one of the oldest bars in the city. I’m Hunter,
by the way.” He placed the certificate in his left hand and offered her
his other. “Ride, as in a motorcycle?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="page" title="Page 11">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Michelle. And no, ride as in a bicycle.” She slipped her hand
into his. The heat of his palm warmed her fingers. His sleeve rode up
a corded forearm, revealing more of his tattoo before his sleeve
covered it again. The colors and intricate design intrigued her, even
though she wasn’t sure what it depicted.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Looks like you’re up, Michelle. Pick your poison.” Hunter
nodded to the counter.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle pulled her hand away and ordered two caramel
macchiato coffees with extra whipped cream.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Anything else, miss,” asked the barista.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Her mouth watered as she glanced at the dish of peanut butter
chocolate chip cookies in the pastry case and remembered her empty
pockets. “Thanks, but just the coffee,” she said, pushing the
certificates across the counter.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The barista turned to Hunter. “What can I get you?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Coffee, black, and....” He turned to Michelle. “What do you
recommend?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle’s gaze darted to the plate of her favorites. “I’d get
the peanut butter chocolate chip cookie.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Hunter held up two fingers. “Two of those, please.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle collected her drinks, took a sip from one of them,
and closed her eyes. The creamy foam warmed her throat.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“That good?” Hunter asked after he passed his voucher and a
few dollars to the barista.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Yeah, really good. Have a nice day.” Michelle took another
sip and turned toward the door to leave.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Hold on a sec.” He pulled one of the cookies out of the bag
and handed it to Michelle. “Thanks for the recommendation.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">She shook her head. “Oh, no thanks. Save it for later. I gotta
get back to work.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">He smiled. “Please take it as a thank you for keeping me
company in that long line.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle looked from the cookie to his golden-honey eyes.
“Thanks.” Reaching for it, her fingers brushed against his, sending a
tingle to places in her that hadn’t been touched in a long time. She
lingered a moment longer than she should have. Glancing at him, she
saw a sly smile form on his lips. She took the treat and turned before
the heat creeping up her neck became visible on her cheeks.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“See you around.” Hunter called.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="page" title="Page 12">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle pushed the door open and hoped the cool air would
restrain the heat building in her belly. Heading in the direction of the
gallery, she took a bite of the cookie and savored the sweet and
creamy goodness dancing on her tongue. The flavors of her favorite
cookie teased her taste buds as she entered the gallery.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“What are you all smiles about? And why are you all
flushed?” Cheyenne asked with her hands on her hips.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“I just ate something delicious. Here, I saved you half.” She
handed her the coffee cup and half the cookie.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Cheyenne took a bite and groaned. “Oh, yeah. This is good. So
good. Were they giving these out too?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Nope. The guy I talked to while we stood in line bought a
couple and gave me one.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Cheyenne held her finger up as she chewed and swallowed.
“Hold on. You met a guy?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“I didn’t say I met a guy. You make it sound sordid,” Michelle
said, swatting her friend’s arm. “But, yeah. I guess I did. His name is
Hunter, and he works at McAvery’s.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Cheyenne’s mouth dropped open. “Hunter McAvery?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle shrugged. “I guess. Why? Do you know him?” It
wouldn’t surprise her if Cheyenne did. Cheyenne seemed to go out
every night. Concerts, clubs, bars—you name it. If there was a party
in the city, Cheyenne found it.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“Hunter and his brother, Alex, are always pictured in </span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Italic'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The
Village Mouth </span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">at the best parties and club openings. Total players. In
fact, I heard Miranda and Alex used to be involved for a while. I
asked her about it once, but she wouldn’t talk about it.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“You read about that in </span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Italic'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The Village Mouth</span><span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">, that weekly gossip
rag? No wonder she wouldn’t talk about it. It’s a bunch of trash.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Did he ask you out?”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle snorted, and her mind wandered to the man with
well-worn boots and a eyes she could easily get lost in. “No. We just
talked while waiting for our free coffees. End of story.” A group of
women walked in before Cheyenne could respond. “Here’s the first
group of gawkers.”
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The door buzzer continued to sound all day as people entered
and left the gallery. Michelle ducked into the office for a quick lunch
and to check the gallery’s e-mail account when she noticed a message
from Miranda.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="page" title="Page 13">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Italic'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Hi! I hope the last Arts Walk brings in some business. My cat
sitter messaged me and is running late today. If it’s not too busy,
would one of you run over to my apartment and feed Fuzzy for me?
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman,Italic'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">Michelle smiled. Miranda loved her cat, and it killed her to
leave her precious Fuzzy for a month. She tapped a message back and
hit send before returning her salad back to the small refrigerator under
Miranda’s desk. “Chey. Miranda needs one of us to run over and feed
Fuzzy. I’ll go since it’s my lunch break.” Michelle called into the
gallery as she pulled open the desk drawer and removed the spare set
of keys to Miranda’s building and apartment.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">“No problem. Things have quieted down here. Take your
time.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'TimesNewRoman'; font-size: 12.000000pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-74823207817017942014-09-08T19:56:00.000-04:002014-09-08T19:58:21.893-04:00PREVIEW CHAPTER ONE: Zakia and the Cowboy by Lorraine Nelson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Zakia and the Cowboy</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Lorraine Nelson</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Blurb:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">With a stalker following her every move Zakia has no choice but to flee the city. With her options limited she runs to the only place she's ever felt safe...the Thunder Creek Ranch and her ex-husband, Lucas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Will he protect Zakia from the stalker? And if he does will either of them be able to ignore the feelings that have simmered for so long, ready to explode... before danger either draws them together or pulls them apart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">~ Prologue ~</span></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i>She hadn’t come home! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>He’d waited most of the night and she hadn’t shown. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Looking around one last time, enraged because she had slipped away so
easily, he picked the brightest red lipstick from the assortment displayed on
the dressing table and left a message on her bedroom mirror, knowing she
couldn’t miss it on her return. </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Satisfied
that he’d done all he could for now, he scowled as he left the room, trailing
the lipstick along the pristine walls of the main corridor as he walked. <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBlockText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
He allowed the fancy cylinder to drop from
his black-gloved fingers, leaving a blood red spot on the pristine, sand
colored carpet, before he turned and sauntered toward the exit.</div>
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He was invincible! He came and went as he
pleased with security none the wiser. Little Miss Perfect may have given him
the slip today, but he’d find her. </div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She can slow me down but she and
all her daddy’s money, can’t stop me from getting the revenge I deserve, and
it’s overdue, way past overdue.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You won’t escape me for long. That
I can promise.<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">~ Chapter One ~</span></div>
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<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Zakia parked
her vintage Caddy directly in front of the dry cleaning shop five minutes
before its closing. She grabbed her purse, turned around and spoke to the boys
in the back seat, “Casey, Cammy, get a move on. You know we need to hurry. Come
with me so you can carry your backpacks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Why do we
have to leave our friends, Mommy?” asked Casey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Is this a
vacation?” Cammy piped up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Are there
any kids where we’re going?” Casey added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The last
question latched onto Zakia’s heart, squeezing it like nothing else could. Had
Luke remarried? She swallowed past the lump in her throat before she answered.
“I don’t know if we’ll find other kids there, Casey. At least you and Cammy
have each other. We’re going on a sort of vacation. I told you both this
morning. We’re going someplace special but it’s a surprise and I’d like to get
going before dark.” Frustration and impatience had her mentally counting to ten
to refrain from speaking too sharply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They entered
the dry cleaning depot and she acknowledged the petite brunette working behind
the counter with a wave. “Hi, Sam. We’re here to pick up our stuff.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Hi, Zak.
Good timing. The staff are gone for the day and I was about to lock up. Just
let me finish hanging these clothes. They’re due for pick-up tomorrow. Hi,
boys. Ready for your big adventure?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Yeah.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Guess so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Why so
enthusiastic?” Sam asked, her mouth stretched in a teasing grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Mommy won’t
tell us where we’re going,” Cammy answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“And we
won’t have anyone to play with,” Casey said. He scuffed lazily along behind his
brother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well, maybe
I can perk up your interest in traveling a little bit.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The boys
stopped and looked up, anticipation evident in the upward tilt of their
freckled faces as they waited for their ‘Auntie’ Sam to speak. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“There’s
been a slight change of plans. Come with me.” Sam passed Zakia a set of keys
and they made their way down the back stairs to the parking lot. “I couldn’t
let you leave in that monstrous car of yours. It can be detected from a mile
down the road.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“I happen to
like my car, and I already agreed to switch vehicles with you, so what gives?”
Zakia asked. She desperately wanted to leave town as soon as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Now don’t
go getting all huffy. No male in his right mind wants to go adventuring in a
purple car, even if it is a Cadillac. Do you guys?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“See, Zak, my friend,” Sam said as the
boys shook their heads. “The boys need a real vehicle to take their vacation
in, so I convinced a friend of mine to loan you one with all the bells and
whistles. The SUV is much better than using my old jalopy and comes with air
conditioning, a super stereo system, five on the floor, and four wheel drive,
in case you need to go off-roading. On top of all that, the boys get to watch a
movie on the portable DVD player. We’ve even provided a few to help keep them
occupied until you get to where you’re going. Here it is! Come see for
yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Casey ran
toward the truck, his brother following close on his heels. Their gleeful
shouts filled the air, but their exuberance was almost lost on Zakia as she
stared at the mammoth hunk of metal before her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sam stood in
front of a huge, black beast so high off the ground Zakia felt she couldn’t
possibly climb up into the cab. She walked around the vehicle in a daze and,
although she could barely reach the door handle, noted there were side steps
plus a grab bar to hang onto. The SUV also had tinted glass all around except
for the front windshield.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Samantha?”
She walked back around to where her friend was roughhousing with the boys. “I’m
stunned you went to so much trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No trouble.
I just wanted to make sure you and the little rugrats here enjoy a safe
vacation.” She grinned as she ruffled the twins’ hair on top of their heads.
“Now get in before someone happens to notice you back here and we lose the
element of surprise.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sam opened
the door and hoisted the boys into the backseat of the truck. Zakia watched as
her friend buckled them in securely and helped choose a movie for their trip.
She tossed her purse up into the cab to free her hands, laboriously scrambled
up and settled in behind the wheel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sam closed
the rear door, running her hands nervously through her hair as she waited for
Zakia to turn the key and put her window down. “Hand over the keys to your
Caddy. I’ve arranged for a paint job while you’re gone. Those boys can’t
continue to be seen driving around in a car that color and we need to keep it
out of sight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Zakia
rummaged through her purse, grabbed her keys and passed them to her friend.
“How can I ever thank you, Sam? You’ve taken it upon yourself to make this
really work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Of course
it’ll work, and remember, some friends of mine are joining me later to lead </span>him<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> on a wild goose chase. Just keep yourself
and those gorgeous boys of yours safe. The things you stored here are already
loaded in the back out of sight. I’ve also included a box of goodies, drinks
and snacks, in case you guys get hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You’ve
thought of everything. Thank you for being such a good friend, Sam.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Thank </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">, Zak. You believed in me when no one else did. I figure this kind of
makes things even. Don’t call or check in with anybody here. I’ll contact you
with regular updates and notify you when the coast is clear. Speaking of which,
this vehicle is equipped with a satellite phone. I’m the only one with the
number. Give me your cell. I’ll take the battery out and leave it in your
mailbox.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“No. Don’t
go to my place. As soon as he’s aware that I’m gone, he’s bound to cause
trouble. You know that. Just throw the phone in the garbage somewhere on the
other side of town and don’t look back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Will do.
The SUV is full of gas and ready to go. Any questions?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“None,
except, what will you tell everybody?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“The truth
of course. I haven’t seen you since Tuesday night when you stopped in to pick
up your dry cleaning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Zakia
reached out and awkwardly hugged her friend. “See you when this is over, Sam.
You’re the best!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Don’t tell
anyone. I wouldn’t want to spoil my reputation. Now, get going.” Sam jumped
down off the running board and waved good-bye in response to the boys’ excited
waves as they began their journey down the back alley with headlights turned
off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">*
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sam returned
inside, locked up windows and doors and went upstairs to her apartment. She
kept the lights blazing for a long time. Zakia often came to visit, staying
long into the evening with Zak’s parents picking up the twins for an
overnighter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">A couple
hours later, Samantha donned a long blonde wig and the duplicate set of clothes
the girls had prepared beforehand. She flipped the lock on the door, went to
Zakia’s caddy and popped the trunk open briefly as she fiddled around at the
rear of the car, got behind the wheel of the Caddy and drove away. Sure enough,
another car, parked a few spaces behind, pulled out to follow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Few people
around their end of town were aware of Sam’s stint with the armed forces, which
ended early on a medical discharge. Once a soldier, always a soldier, was the
way Sam thought. Defensive driving and strategic maneuvers had been drilled
into her along with the fight or flight mentality. She could no longer hold her
own in direct combat but she knew this city like the back of her hand, and the
purple Caddy would look black in the dark once they were away from the glaring
lights of downtown. Sam was actually looking forward to the imminent pursuit of
the stalker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">She wondered
if the idiot following her was aware of a signal light burned out on his
vehicle, making it much easier to keep track of him. Probably not, and by the
time he figured it out Zakia would be long gone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Coming up to
the preplanned intersection, she met two other Cadillacs identical to Zakia’s
except, of course, for color. At the next intersection, four more waited to
join the queue. They headed for the highway ramps, passing each other and playing
a kind of leapfrog once on the highway until their follower wouldn’t have the
slightest idea which car was which. They’d even removed the license plates
earlier in case he had Zakia’s memorized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As the first
Caddy exited the highway, their pursuer gave up, made a blatant show of
speeding up to pass them, and continued driving into the night. The Caddy
drivers all wore identical blonde wigs and honked and waved as he drove past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Sam and her
comrades met up at the garage where Zakia’s car was to be stored for the
duration. The garage, owned by a friend of Sam’s, was also part of an auto
salvage set-up and the Cadillacs were all being allowed to ‘hide-out’ at the
back of the yard until, or if, they were needed again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Seven
victorious women high-fived and hugged each other at their successful mission,
then piled into a nondescript black van and headed downtown to celebrate their
victory. Zakia had vetoed their original plan to surround the stalker and force
him off the road. She’d made Sam promise that none of the girls would get hurt,
which was more than likely if he fought back. So they played their game
instead. Sam hadn’t had so much fun since leaving the army and she entered the
bar in good spirits, ready to celebrate with her friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">*
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So
she wanted to play games now, did she? She hadn’t learned anything if she
thought she was in control! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all the messages and presents he’d given her, she should
be afraid. Doesn’t she realize yet who’s boss? She had a lot of nerve, trying
to trick him this way. Doesn’t she realize I can get to her anytime? <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She was a creature of habit. He
didn’t have to follow her every day to know what she did and where she went,
but he so enjoyed watching her as she looked over her shoulder, frightened and
confused.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
would attack her through the children. That would be more fun. Spoiled little
brats! She’d listen to him then. No one to distract her anymore. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But where was she heading tonight?
She may have outsmarted him this time but her luck was about to run out. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’d have a nice surprise waiting
for her when she got home. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She’d
pay for this. She’d pay dearly.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Copyright
Lorraine Nelson 2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-1175258248069649982014-09-01T23:15:00.001-04:002014-09-01T23:15:44.198-04:00PREVIEW the First Chapter of THE SUMMER HEAT by Elodie Parkes #FreeRead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Summer Heat</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Elodie Parkes</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span></b></div>
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<div style="background-color: white;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.9em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>When lifelong friends Nate and Evan watch the arrival of a new neighbor, they never expect to find their friendship rocked by the lovely Annabel who moves into the empty house next door.</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.9em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Annabel likes both Nate and Evan the moment she meets them. As they all grow close, will she be forced to choose between these gorgeous men?</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.9em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Be Warned: menage sex (MFM)</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">#####</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Summer Heat<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Elodie Parkes<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Contemporary, ménage romance<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Watch out,
Nate. That thing’s lethal.” Evan burst out laughing as the chainsaw blade
bounced off the tree stump and onto the grass, forcing his friend to cling on
tight to the handle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Fucking
thing has a mind of its own.” Nate turned the chainsaw off and laid it down on
the gravel path. “I reckon the trunk’s short enough now to dig the roots out.”
He picked up a spade that leaned against a neighboring tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan
grinned. “Maybe we need to take the two remaining branches off.” He ran a hand
over his forehead and took off the clear framed, safety glasses he wore. After
tossing them down on the grass, he pulled off his T-shirt. Sweat trickled down
between his muscled shoulders, and he wiped the back of his neck with his
shirt, a frown creasing his forehead. “It’s already hot. Let’s get this
finished.” He strode around Nate to the path, and retrieved the chainsaw.
Within a few moments, the tree stump stood devoid of the remaining branches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate shook
his head at Evan. “You should be wearing the glasses and the gloves I gave
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan
grunted. “It’s done. Don’t fuss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate grinned
broadly at his friend’s gung-ho dismissal. “Hey, it’s not fussing. A flying
sharp splinter could take your eye out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan’s
returning grin held affection. “Yeah, I know, I just wanted it done.” He placed
the power tool on the path and picked up one of the bottles of water standing
next to Nate’s supply of work gloves and safety glasses. He poured some over
his face and then took a drink. “Warm.” He grimaced at Nate, put the bottle
down, and picked up a spade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate
shrugged and then drove the edge of his spade into the soil around the tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan joined
him digging silently at the base of the tree stump.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The tree
grew on the edge of their garden, and they’d had complaints from people because
it dropped branches on the sidewalk. Nate had dutifully hired a tree doctor who
discovered disease caused by a virulent beetle pest. The prognosis for the tree
was bad. It needed cutting down, and the tree doctor informed Nate they were
lucky the other trees hadn’t contracted the beetle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Saturday
morning sun blazed in the June sky. Heat shimmered off the sidewalk. Nate and
Evan were the only people out in their front yards. The noise of their work
tools were the only sounds, as not even the seagulls that often wheeled
overhead ventured from the cool of the ocean yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate and
Evan’s house was one of the largest in the rows of three story houses built
along the river in a modern development unimaginatively called Riverside Mews.
Narrow lanes that led to the river path separated the rows. Somehow, patches of
white sand always settled on the paths, though the nearest beach was a mile away.
Each house had its own river access, through a gate at the end of the back yard
to a riverbank public path, but there was no boat access, no jetties. The
public path wound along by the river from the seaside town close by and on into
the countryside. The house to the right of Nate and Evan’s place was occupied
by a small family, but the house to the left had been empty and for sale all
year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The roar of
a large van engine broke the hot, morning silence as it turned into the street
and thumped over each speed hump in the road, until it drew up in front of the
empty house next door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate gave
the van a cursory glance, but Evan leaned on his spade and watched as two men
leapt out of each side of the van. He read the name of a removal firm and their
logo emblazoned across the side of the vehicle and discovered it was from a
city in the north of the state. It piqued his interest, so he continued with
his unashamed staring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The men
who’d alighted from the cab walked to the back of the van and opened its double
doors, just as a pale blue, old model Mustang drove up and parked a short
distance away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A young
woman got out of the Mustang.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan liked
her shapely body right away. He straightened up for a better view and admired
the swing of her hips. Without taking his eyes off her, he murmured to Nate.
“Check her out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate stopped
hacking at the sun-baked soil around the remaining tree trunk and looked
around. He gazed at the young woman for a few seconds and then turned back to
his job. “Sexy. Don’t stare.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan resumed
digging, but he stole glances as the two workers unloaded the items from the
removal van. When the young woman walked up her front path, Evan took in the
attractive sight of her thighs in the cutoff jeans she wore, and then raised
his gaze to her pretty face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her eyes met
his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan’s
stomach muscles clenched. Surprise at the reaction in his gut and a shock of
sexual attraction spiked through him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The young
woman’s expression held a hungry, lonely look that woke dormant emotions deep
inside him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She’d been
halfway down the street, when Annabel saw the two guys working in their front
yard. She took in the muscled torso of the guy who openly stared at the moving
van, and the hard bottom of the guy digging. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They’re</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yummy.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Edgy with
pent up sexual energy, Annabel longed for a man in her life. The summer heat
didn’t help. She eyed every guy with his shirt off. Every couple kissing on the
beach or in the park as she walked caught her attention. In the six months
since she’d split with her then boyfriend, she missed sex the most. She didn’t
miss his moods and his lazy ass around her apartment. She didn’t miss waiting
up for him at night, hoping he’d make love to her, only to find he’d sleep on
the couch. When he’d confessed he’d found someone else, a kind of relief had flooded
her. She wanted something different, real love, a passion so consuming she’d be
rocked by it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Annabel
checked out the two gorgeous guys working in their garden again. She knew “bare
chest guy” said something about her to “gorgeous denim clad ass” because he
immediately looked around at her. She gazed back at the one whose admiring
stare sent waves of pleasure through her as she went up the path to her new
house. A huge pull of attraction to the men startled her, and as she opened her
front door, she considered them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They’re
so hot, wonder if they’re single. Maybe they don’t even live there. Maybe
they’re gardeners. I hope not. I hope they live there. Even if we’re only
friends, they’re someone beautiful to look at.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her house
waited cool and quiet. She raced through it, relishing the space, and the white
walls where the sunlight bounced back and dazzled her as she pulled up the
roller blinds. She opened the patio doors and dashed out, down the path, and
through the gate to the riverside. The water, dappled in brilliant greens,
sailed by, looking cool and deep. The river widened there on its way to the
sea, and across it lay open countryside. Annabel had loved the house as soon as
she saw it. She loved the street, the funny little access lanes, the palm trees
in her back yard, and close to the lovely seaside town where she’d found her
new job, the house exuded a welcoming atmosphere. Everything was perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Annabel
didn’t have much furniture and instructed the removal men about where to place
it. She’d dropped into the place a couple of days before and turned on the
built-in Westinghouse, piled bottled water in there and two six packs of beer,
and then looked out at the river. The street had been silent, except for bird
calls, and she’d assumed all the residents were at work. She was on vacation.
Annabel went to the fridge and took out two bottles of water and two beers. She
met the removal men in the hall as they placed the last item of her furniture
there, an old, solid oak hall table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I guess you
two could use a drink.” She held the bottles up against her chest, and as she
handed them to the men, damp patches appeared on her T-shirt from the
condensation on the bottles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The younger
of the two men gawked at her nipples peaking in the dampness and the cool of
the air-con. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Annabel
folded her arms over her breasts as she realized this. She gave them a polite
smile. “Thank you. You’ve done a good job.” She directed a question at the
removal man who’d taken charge of the proceedings, “Anything for me to sign?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I need to
get the paperwork from the van.” They both turned to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She followed
them out of the door. As she walked down her path, she glanced over at the
neighboring garden. Her breathing quickened at the sight of the gorgeous guys,
both without shirts now, as they tugged at the tree stump. She hurriedly signed
the form the removal man handed to her on a clipboard, and remained on the
sidewalk as he and his assistant got in the van and started the engine. The van
pulled away from the curb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Annabel
sauntered back to her front door. The noise of the van engine must have caught
the attention of her possible neighbors. They both stopped work to look. She
took the opportunity. With a smile, Annabel stepped across her lawn and crossed
the narrow path to stand a short distance from the two men working in their
garden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hi, I’m
Annabel, I’ve just moved in.” She waved at her new house unnecessarily, and
continued, “Do you live here, are we neighbors?” As she said this, her gaze
traveled over the naked torsos of first one man and then the other. Their faded
and ripped jeans rode low on their hips. The taller man’s jeans hung especially
low and a hint of his dark pubic hair showed. Annabel could hardly take her
eyes off his hard stomach. Licking her lips, she tore her gaze away to look
into the other man’s eyes as he shielded them from the sun with a gloved hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He’s lovely. Holy hell they’re
gorgeous, both of them. I couldn’t choose one. I wouldn’t … it’d be both … if
possible…</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Annabel
waited for an answer, heart pounding. Being so close to such perfect specimens
of manhood played havoc with her condensation-primed nipples, and she crossed
her arms to hide the obvious hard peaks.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One of the
men answered. His eyes held a smile, his voice, deep and breathtakingly sexy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hi, yes, we
live here. I’m Evan, this is Nate,” and he gestured at his companion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate took
off his work glove and offered his hand to Annabel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She shook
his hand, looking into his blue-gray eyes. Annabel soaked up the texture of
Nate’s skin and the sexual heat in his expression. She enjoyed the quick clench
that occurred in her pussy as he smiled invitingly. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s delicious.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hi Annabel,
it’s good to meet you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Then Evan
offered his hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She left
Nate’s sensual grasp reluctantly and put her hand into Evan’s. He cradled it,
and his fingertips skimmed the inside of her wrist. The effect was so sexy her
pussy drenched her panties. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuck,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’d like to drag him down onto the grass and
do wild things.</i> It made her smile a little, when the thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with both of them</i>, popped into her head.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan gently
let go of her hand as he spoke. “We didn’t think the house would ever be sold.
These places go quickly usually, but that one lingered all year.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Unable to
help herself, Annabel stared wistfully at his lips and then into his eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Are they single?</i> She questioned
inwardly, but said, “I can’t think why it took so long to sell, but I’m glad it
did, so that I could buy it. I love the place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan smiled.
“We love it here. Close to our work, close to beaches, great place. If you need
a hand with moving in let us know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A thrill of
pleasure coursed through her at his kind offer. “Everything heavy is in place.
The removal guys did that. I just have boxes to unpack. It’s a warm day. Do you
want to come over for a cold drink when you’ve finished that job?” She nodded
at the tree stump. “I’ll probably know if there’s anything I need help with by
then, and need a break. Thank you so much for offering.” She glanced at Nate as
she said this to make sure he knew she meant them both.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate
answered. “Love to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She smiled
at him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s so lovely.</i> Both men had
dark hair and blue eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Are they
brothers? It’s too soon to ask. </i>“Great, I’ll let you get on with digging
out the tree.”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She left
them and crossed the path to her house. Her heart beating fast, elated by the
encounter, she sighed with longing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They’re
both so attractive and seriously sexy. Imagine making out with one of them, or
both. I definitely couldn’t choose which one. I’m desperate to kiss Evan or
Nate, yeah … desperate.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan watched
her walk away, and when she’d gone into her house, he let out a low whistle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“She flirted
with me. Did you see that, Nate? She kept looking at me and licking her lips.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nate stared
at him for a moment. “She looked right into my eyes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with meaning</i> when I said we’d go around for a drink. I actually
felt it in my balls. She’s hot. I might ask her out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A twinge of
annoyance put a fleeting frown on Evan’s face. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> might ask her out.” Then he softened. “We’ll have to share her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">With a laugh,
Nate gave him a playful thump on the arm. “Let’s get this tree stump dealt with,
and then we’ll go around to her place, and make ourselves indispensable.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evan
accepted what Nate said, but as he dug, he determined that at the first moment
an opportunity arose, he’d ask Annabel out. She sparked something in him. A
deep need floated in his heart, and it made him want to see her again soon.
Just set eyes on her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Copyright
Elodie Parkes 2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-46414449057723005072014-08-25T15:47:00.000-04:002014-08-25T15:51:46.089-04:00PREVIEW CHAPTER ONE: Caught in Darkness by Rose Wulf #FreeRead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Caught in Darkness</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>by Rose Wulf</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<em><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Night Shadows, 1</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Veronica Wyndham had no idea that vampires were real, let alone that her new favorite customer—Tall Dark and Handsome—just so happened to be one. And she never imagined she’d overhear a robbery plan with murderous potential while eating lunch in the park. Making those kinds of enemies just wasn’t a good way to spend a day.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><strong></strong></span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Seth Hunter knew he should have been grateful for Veronica’s unintentional help in exposing the traitors, but all he could worry about was how much danger she’d just landed in. Instinct had him taking it upon himself to keep a protective eye on her, but even then he had to keep his distance. If she found out the truth about the world around her, she would surely get Caught in Darkness.</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">#####</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">CAUGHT IN DARKNESS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Night Shadows,
1<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rose Wulf<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Copyright © 2014<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">~ </span><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Chapter One ~</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Coffee,
black, no sugar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
order rang in Veronica Wyndham’s ears as she snuck a glance over at the mystery
man that she and her coworkers had dubbed Tall, Dark, and Handsome. He’d
started coming in only a week before, and since then he came in every morning
at precisely ten-fifteen, and he always ordered exactly the same thing. Not
that she knew how he could stomach it, since it was the middle of July and it
was already pushing ninety degrees outside by ten o’clock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Still,
it sort of suits him, Veronica decided as she pretended to focus on filling a
cup with freshly-brewed coffee. She snuck another glance at him as she reached
for a fitted lid, noting appreciatively that he was dressed like he always was
– in black. Black long-sleeved shirt that was just tight enough to showcase his
sculpted arms, black slacks that somehow made him look even taller, and black
shoes. He was even wearing a pair of black Ray Bans straight out of Men in
Black. All of which, of course, complemented his thick, dark hair. And, as
clichéd as it was, the look definitely worked for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Setting
the beverage on the small pickup shelf, she called, “Coffee, no sugar,” and
offered him a hopefully-casual smile as he reached for the drink. “Have a good
day,” she added, smile still firmly in place despite the traitorous strand of
blonde hair that had fallen into her eyes as she shifted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Tall,
Dark, and Handsome merely inclined his head before turning and sweeping out of
the small building. He seemed oblivious to the multiple pairs of eyes that
watched him leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Veronica
sucked in a breath, gave herself a mental headshake, and returned to her job.
You can ogle him again tomorrow, she reminded herself, tucking her hair out of
the way. If nothing else, at least she could say that about her recent switch
to the morning shift – she’d certainly never had eye-candy like him when she
closed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Veronica
Ann Wyndham,” Carol Wyndham began, her tone clipped, when she answered the
phone several hours later, “where on Earth have you been?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Trying
not to roll her eyes, Veronica replied, “I’ve been at work, Mom. I just got
home, so I’m calling you back.” Her mother had left her a short, vague
voicemail earlier that afternoon, insisting that she call back ‘right away.’
But her mother also had a tendency to dramatize even the most mundane of
things, so Veronica had decided not to panic without cause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Releasing
a frustrated breath, Carol declared, “That job of yours gets in the way of your
life, you know. You’re twenty-five years old, you’re not getting any younger;
you should be out meeting good men so that you can get married and settle down.
You don’t want to wait much longer before you start having children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Her
right eye was beginning to twitch and Veronica sighed as she stepped out of her
shoes and sank into her couch. They had this argument at least twice a month.
Keeping her voice calm and casual, Veronica said, “I’m sure you didn’t call
just to lecture me about how much I’m messing up my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I
never said you were messing it up,” Carol defended. She paused, though, before
finally changing the topic and saying, “I called because we’re having a potluck
for the new neighbors on Saturday night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Warning
bells immediately went off in Veronica’s head, but she tried to keep the
hesitation out of her voice as she asked, “And you’re telling me this…why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“What
do you mean ‘why’?” her mother asked incredulously. “You need to know so that
you can plan accordingly. It starts at six, so I expect to see you by
five-thirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Releasing
a heavy breath, Veronica replied firmly, “I can’t go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I
beg your pardon?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I
can’t go,” Veronica repeated deliberately. “I already have plans.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Without
missing a beat, Carol said, “Then change them. Darling, we need to welcome them
to the neighborhood properly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Attempting
to remain calm, Veronica said, “I can’t just ‘change’ these plans, Mom. And, in
case you’ve forgotten, I don’t live in that neighborhood anymore. I haven’t for
years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“And
how do you suppose it will look if you don’t come?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Like
your daughter has enough of a life that she’s not available at the last minute
on a Saturday night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Voice
firm, Carol insisted, “Five-thirty, Veronica. This is not up for discussion.”
The line clicked a beat later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Veronica
pulled her phone from her ear and stared, dumbfounded, at the blinking display.
And then her disbelief melted quickly into anger and her grip tightened on the
slim device as she sucked in a sharp breath. It’s like she’s convinced herself
I’m still fifteen! Fuming now, she dropped the phone onto the cushion beside
her, pushed to her feet, and made her way into her kitchen. I’m not going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She
was constantly amazed at how selfish and thoughtless her mother could be at
times. Saturday was her best friend Allison’s birthday – and her mother knew
that. She and Allison had been friends since high school. I can’t just bail on
Ali’s birthday! It was times like this that she really wanted to yell at her
mother, despite the fact that she knew she never would.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Mom’s
just going to have to be disappointed, Veronica decided silently as she dug
through her refrigerator. Ordinarily, Veronica would let her mother win an
argument like this. Whenever she put her foot down on an issue she never heard
the end of it – her mother was still giving her grief for working part-time in
a coffee shop! And she tried, she really did, not to upset her mother. But this
was different. This was something important to someone else, someone who also
mattered to her, and her mother was just going to have to accept that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">I
am absolutely not going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth
Hunter strode purposefully into the comfortable Baltimore penthouse, offering a
courtesy nod to the lone man sprawled lazily out on the sofa in the large
living room. Even though he had been in town for over a week now, Seth was
still surprised that Robert – the man he was currently heading to see –
actually lived in such a flashy space. As the local Family’s head vampire,
Robert certainly had the finances and status for penthouse-living, but Robert
himself was so unassuming and down-to-earth that it just seemed to clash. Not
that it was any of Seth’s business; he wasn’t in town to judge anything other
than the loyalty of Robert’s Family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">He
came to a stop on the outside of a sturdy, unassuming door and gathered his
thoughts. With deliberate casualty (in case anyone was watching), Seth lifted
one loosely-curled fist and tapped on the door. He remained entirely still
until he heard a faintly muffled voice call to him from the other side, and
then he eased the door open and slipped inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Robert’s
office – originally intended to be used as an additional bedroom – was a good
size and lavishly decorated. What was once a closet had now been transformed
into a recessed bookcase, and thick, black drapes hung over the single window.
Pictures and multiple framed diplomas adorned the walls, and a large, mahogany
desk was stationed before the covered window. A corded phone, two more framed
pictures, a laptop, and a new printer were scattered across the desk, behind
which sat Robert himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Robert
took a deep breath, letting his well-wrung hands land back on his desk, and
lifted his weary, dark eyes up to meet Seth’s gaze. “Thank you so much for
coming right over,” he began. “Please, sit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth
inclined his head and settled into one of the leather chairs facing the desk as
he said, “It wasn’t a problem. What’s going on?” He had been called into town
to help smoke out some suspected traitors, but so far his investigation had
been slow-going at best. He could only assume that Robert had called for him
because he’d learned something more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Ah,”
Robert hedged, looking away again. It was obvious that he knew his next words
wouldn’t make Seth a very happy vampire. “I’m afraid it seems that my friend,
our informant, has disappeared. I haven’t been able to get ahold of him since
early last night, and he’s not at home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth’s
lips dipped in a disapproving frown. Robert’s informant was something of a sore
subject for him, as Robert had insisted on keeping his friend’s identity
secret. Robert’s friend was also the best lead they had. “Has anyone else seen
or talked to him more recently?” Seth asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Not
that I’m aware of,” Robert replied dejectedly. “I’m worried, Seth. I’m afraid
someone might have realized that he knew about their plans.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s
a possibility,” Seth agreed, wishing he could in good conscience point out that
he could have been keeping an eye on their informant if he’d known who the man
was. But he wasn’t angry enough to point the blame at a man so obviously
concerned for another’s safety so, instead, he added, “It’s also possible that
his disappearance means our targets will be making their move sooner than
later. Did you learn anything new last time you spoke with him?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Robert
slowly shook his head, saying, “No, I haven’t. I was hoping you had.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">It’s
hard to get information without knowing who to talk to, Seth grumbled silently.
Aloud, he replied, “I haven’t had much luck. Whoever’s involved is at least
smart enough not to talk around the new guy, and I haven’t had enough time to
dig into everyone’s daily routines.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Tiffany’s
not going to like any of this,” Robert said on a sigh as he sank back into his
chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth
studied his current employer quietly for a moment before forcing himself to
bring up an old subject. “Robert,” he began, “I know you don’t like this idea,
but maybe it’s time you considered that your friend’s been lying. He could have
been feeding you information in order to throw the both of us off of his
trail.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Robert
dragged his eyes back from the ceiling, his expression hardening visibly and
finally showing an echo of the powerful vampire he truly was. “Absolutely not,”
he insisted. “He would never betray me; I would trust him with anything. And
I’m not paying you to waste precious time suspecting the wrong man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Managing
to keep his voice even, Seth replied, “At this point I’m suspecting everyone,
including your friend, since I don’t know who he is.” He pushed to his feet,
aware that Robert didn’t have anything more for him, and added, “But it
shouldn’t take a lot of effort to figure out who’s missing. If I find a lead
for him, I’ll let you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I’m
not asking you to investigate his disappearance,” Robert declared calmly. “You
told me at the beginning to act normal, and under ordinary circumstances I
would be handling his disappearance myself. I was only telling you so that you
would know that we won’t have any new information coming our way for a while.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Lips
drawing into a thin line, Seth inclined his head again and turned without a
word. He’d taken this case because he’d thought he liked Robert—however, at
that moment Robert was his own worst enemy. But there was nothing to be done
about it. In the meantime, he still had an undetermined number of traitors to
flush out of hiding before they hurt somebody.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Despite
herself, Veronica couldn’t stop reflecting on the ridiculous situation her
mother had put her in. Even as she went through her nightly routine, brushing
her easily-tangled and still-damp hair, she found herself mentally arguing her
point all over again. It was entirely unfair of her mother to demand that she
participate in someone else’s potluck, especially on the night of her best
friend’s birthday. But she also knew that her mother wouldn’t see it that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Just
bring Allison with you,” her mother would say, as if it were the most obvious
solution in the world. “She knows how much I adore her.” That was the positive,
attempt–at-being-reasonable response. There was always a possibility that her
mother would come back with, “Allison will understand. And it’s not like you
never see her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Yeah,
well, it’s not like I never see you, either, Veronica found herself grumbling
as she set her brush back onto the nightstand. She groaned aloud, squeezed her
eyes shut, and shook her head. Great, now I’m arguing with my mother inside my
head!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
worst part was that if the issue were to be brought to Allison’s attention,
Veronica knew without a doubt that Allison would tell her to go anyway. That
was how Allison was, and, conversely, that was a large part of the reason why Veronica
was so reluctant to give in to her mother’s demand. Allison was looking forward
to having all of her friends around for her party – she hadn’t even celebrated
the year before – and Veronica knew she’d be disappointed if someone had to
cancel. The last thing Veronica wanted to do was be that person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Fleetingly,
Veronica wondered if her mother would make her go up to the new neighbor’s door
and apologize in person for missing the potluck like she had during her
sophomore year of college.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Releasing
a heavy sigh, Veronica flopped down onto her mattress and stared, unseeingly,
up at the ceiling. That had been so humiliating – not to mention unnecessary –
and that had, in fact, been the action that led to her ultimately deciding to
move out of the house. She had never been so furious at her mother, nor her
mother at her. They hadn’t spoken to each other for nearly a month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Guilt
swirled up in Veronica’s chest, making her stomach clench. She was going to
have to do it. Allison would understand, whether or not she should have to, and
Carol would not. The only thing she wanted less than to disappoint her best
friend was to find herself in the middle of another ultimately-senseless
argument with her mother. In the morning, before she got into work, she was going
to have to call Allison and explain the situation and pray that her best friend
would be willing to schedule a small celebration in the near future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
world was such an incredibly unjust place sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Let
me know if you need a heavier hand,” Jasen Hawthorne reminded on the other end
of the line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth
cut the engine after easing his Corvette into his usual parking space in front
of the coffee house, releasing a silent breath before replying, “Don’t worry;
if it comes to that, I will.” Jasen was significantly older than Seth, and
their jobs were similar enough that the pair often worked together, despite
that their titles were different. Seth was, officially, a Private Investigator
of the First Family – a title which granted him jurisdiction to travel between
Families without causing problems. In contrast, Jasen was the First Family’s
most efficient Enforcer. While Seth was largely an anonymous figure among the
vampires, there were few who hadn’t at least heard of Jasen. But working with
Jasen had at least as many disadvantages as advantages, so Seth generally tried
to work alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“All
right,” Jasen said, his voice as even and deliberate as ever. “Good luck.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Thanks,”
Seth replied before pulling the phone from his ear and disconnecting. The
screen was already blinking, and he wondered if Jasen had even heard his last
response – not that it mattered. With a shake of his head, Seth dropped his
phone back into his pocket and climbed from his car. That phone call had nearly
made him late for his morning coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
soft jingle of the bells over the door signaled his arrival as he stepped
through a moment later and, like he always did, he kept his covered gaze
focused on the counter. It was hard not to notice the way the atmosphere
shifted as he stepped into line, or the way the young brunette at the register
let her gaze flick to him for a lingering moment. But it wasn’t too hard to
ignore. And then the probably-late-for-work, early-twenties boy ahead of him
stepped aside, having placed his order, and it was Seth’s turn. Like he always
did, as her eyes searched his sunglasses curiously, he casually requested,
“Coffee, black, no sugar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">It
wasn’t until he was turning away from the register counter, headed to wait for
his drink, that he realized he had been hoping to see the same blonde woman
from the day before. And he had barely registered the feeling before his eyes
landed on her, and some part of him stirred as he studied her. She had her hair
pulled back in a high ponytail, her head bowed ever-so-slightly as she prepared
the drink ahead of his, and her outfit was covered by the company’s standard
dark blue apron. But even from what he could see it was easy to tell that she
had a shapely figure to go with her naturally pale complexion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">He
watched silently, yet again grateful that he was wearing dark sunglasses, as
she set the drink on the counter and called the name of the boy ahead of him.
As she pulled back to fill his coffee her bright blue eyes flicked in his
direction, the corner of her lips twitching in a subtle smile, and Seth found
himself actually struggling to keep from returning the gesture. Fortunately,
she looked away just as quickly, and he followed her lead, shifting his gaze to
the local advertisements on the board beside him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Coffee,
no sugar,” she called as she set his cup on the shelf. Her eyes again shifted
to him, holding this time for a long second before she smiled and turned her
attention back to the drinks still waiting to be made.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Seth
released an inaudible breath, wrapped his hand around his coffee, and turned to
make his exit. His morning coffee run was turning into a literal bright spot
during his stay, but he was beginning to think it was a good thing he only saw
her once a day. He suspected she had the potential to hold his attention even
in a more important situation, and he still had a job to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Even
so, as he unlocked his car, he couldn’t help but wonder what her name was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Veronica
had been right. It hadn’t been any fun at all having to tell Allison that she
wouldn’t be able to make the party. But at least we were able to reschedule,
she reminded herself. Instead of joining their friends for a couple of movies,
dinner, and some games, she would be meeting Ali on Tuesday for a girl’s day.
It was the best she could do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">And,
in the meantime, it was Saturday afternoon, at least a hundred degrees, and she
needed to find a decent place to eat her lunch. Despite the raging heat of the
summer, Veronica had decided to grab a sandwich from a local deli and spend
some time at the park. Provided, of course, that she could find a little shade.
The heat was weighing down the paper bag in her hand, probably melting the
cheese on her cold roast beef sandwich, and making her immensely glad that she
had opted to go with a lightweight faded blue dress and sandals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Finally
spotting a full, sturdy tree that seemed to have a nice amount of shade beneath
it, Veronica quickly moved over and sat down. The faintest of breezes was
dancing across her heated skin, toying with her neck-length ponytail but
stopping short of actually offering relief. Still, she smiled and tugged her
lunch out of the bag. It was likely to be her only enjoyable meal of the day,
and she wanted to make it last as long as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She
was still nursing the bottle of juice that she’d purchased alongside her
sandwich when she heard movement somewhere behind her. She tried ignoring it,
assuming that it was just someone taking their dog on a walk, but her interest
was piqued when the first voice drifted to her ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“You
better have a good reason for dragging me out here in broad daylight,” the
first voice – male – snapped agitatedly. His voice was gruff and didn’t inspire
confidence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Despite
herself, Veronica tightened the cap on her bottle and leaned slightly around
the tree, curious now. She easily spotted the three men standing not too far
from her. Two stood side-by-side, both a little shy of six foot, and the third
stood opposite them, just slightly shorter than his comrades. But it was the
way they were dressed that really intrigued her. Two wore ankle-length trench
coats over jeans and heavy shirts with baseball caps on their heads, and the
third wore jeans and sneakers beneath a hooded sweatshirt. The third man’s hood
was pulled up, and all of their hands were tucked into pockets. She couldn’t
imagine how they hadn’t already passed out from heat stroke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
one in the hoodie spoke up next, his voice lower and startlingly darker as he
said, “Quit whining, Wilson. You know why we’re meeting out here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
man standing next to the one in the hoodie spoke next, projecting his voice
just a bit higher as he said, “Unless you want to back out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
one standing by himself – the first who’d spoken – scoffed and said, “I’m not a
damn idiot; I kind of like my head where it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Good,”
the louder one replied. He shifted his weight, glancing at the man beside him,
before adding, “I heard Tiffany on the phone this morning; they’re going out tonight.
She thinks they’ll be gone for hours. It’s the best chance we’re gonna get.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Tonight?”
the first man—Wilson—repeated, a tone of incredulity in his voice. “But we
haven’t worked it all out yet. Did you even get the code?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I
did,” Hoodie said shortly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Wilson
flicked a glance toward him before looking back at the louder man and asking,
“So…what’s the plan?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“The
plan’s pretty simple,” the louder man replied. “We wait until Robert’s out, and
then we sneak inside and take the money. It’s not like he ever leaves guards;
we’ll be in and out before anyone’s the wiser.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Silence
stretched, and Veronica’s eyes widened. Oh my god, she whispered silently.
Never had it occurred to her that she’d be overhearing someone talking about a
robbery. But that was exactly what it sounded like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Wilson
spoke up again, drawing her out of her thoughts as he asked, “And if someone
catches us?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The
one in the hoodie calmly replied, “We kill ‘em.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-36225788972139320922014-08-18T07:00:00.000-04:002014-08-18T11:00:27.787-04:00Preview the First Chapter of MASQUERADE by Lace Daltyn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Masquerade (Secrets, 1)</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by Lace Daltyn</span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">Blurb:</b></div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The world is full of secrets...</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></em></strong>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Drea Fortier, a reclusive philanthropist whose painful past influences her belief that there can be no happily ever after for her, reaches out to help others in the hope she can transform their pain and give them hope for the future. Drea’s own story, as well as that of her assistant, Michael Smith, is slowly revealed throughout the Secrets series.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Book One: Masquerade</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></em></strong>
<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Frigid bitch. The words seep into Beth Ritmour's soul, no matter how hard she tries to deny them. A year after her divorce, they still haunt her. So when a mysterious benefactor offers a solution to her problem, Beth takes a vacation from her job as a dental hygienist and follows a cryptic note to Chicago, where she’s soon ensconced as a waitress at Club Masquerade. Although how she’s going to prove she’s not frigid is hard to figure out when the boss makes it very clear that sex, or any precursors to sex, with patrons or employees is strictly taboo. It’s not an easy rule to follow, especially when one deliciously hot bartender keeps very, very close tabs on her.</span></strong></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">MASQUERADE<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Secrets,
1<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lace Daltyn<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Copyright © 2014<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Prologue<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Michael Smith walked off the
elevator of the New York high-rise, vigilant as always as he strode down the
taupe-shaded hall. Two exceptions spoiled the pretense that this hallway was
like any other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">First, only two doors were visible.
One, he knew, opened to a secure stairwell that led up to a rooftop helipad or
down twenty floors to the underground garage. The second door, which he stood
in front of now, led to what he’d come to think of as the inner sanctum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The other big difference about this
hallway was the sophisticated security system that guarded each door. Michael
glanced up at the camera following his movements. He’d worked enough protection
details to know the PIN and thumbprint pad beside the door was top notch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A wariness bred by too many
back-door ops made him glance over his shoulder before entering the access
code. No one was ever behind him. Michael rubbed the back of his neck,
recognizing that his employer’s paranoia had rubbed off on him. That wasn’t the
only thing, either. A memory of lips tinted with ruby-colored disdain caused
him to botch the code, and he endured the required wait time before trying
again, knowing she watched him. Knowing she waited for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Knowing she knew his thoughts had
been of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fuck. How much crap would he
tolerate? This struggle of wills was making him say and do things completely
against his nature. He’d found out the hard way that being submissive only got
him screwed. The promise he’d made himself to never take orders again was
sitting like a lump of acid in his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s
worth it</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> he told himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She’s
worth it.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The room he entered looked like a
hybrid living area. A neat, uncluttered modular desk shared space with the
futon he’d used more than once as a bed. A small fridge with a combination
coffee and water station on top and a low table under the sole window in the
room, completed the furnishings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Michael stowed his duffle and
crossed to the table. Grabbing the spray bottle, he lifted the plastic that
kept several different species of orchids thriving and misted the dirt. Orchids
very much like his boss, both fragile and tough at the same time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After making tea, he knocked on the
door to her office. Entering, Michael reached for the light switch, then pulled
his hand back as he remembered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No
lights.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Only a computer screen and one
single, shroud-shielded lamp behind the desk provided what little illumination
the room held. The rest remained in shadow, swirled in whispers of un-divulged
sorrows Michael could only guess at.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He knew his employer was young.
Mid-twenties at the most. Slender, unlined fingers as yet untouched by time
moved with delicate precision across the keyboard. These were his only
indication of her age.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His employer sat behind a black
desk, its finish dulled to swallow any light that touched its surface. Even the
chrome edges, polished to perfection, found little to reflect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though she sat with a posture that
only comes with much training, Michael had yet to see her face. Each time he
entered, she pulled the ever-present hooded cloak tighter, hiding all but the
tip of her alabaster nose and lips that made his balls tighten with each
glimpse. Painted blood-red, they were full and lush as if designed for the sole
purpose of sucking a guy’s cock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What enticed him just as much,
though, was her voice. Low and sultry, it called to him like a siren. It was as
if she had been trained as a courtesan. What little he could see and hear was
designed to please, to draw him closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Michael felt the familiar hardening
of his cock and repressed the desire to indulge the fantasies that had invaded
his nights. Her lips, quirked at the edges, reminded him she knew the effect
she had on him and Michael tried to bury his arousal deep. He wanted her,
needed her like he needed air to breathe. Had ever since starting this gig
three months ago. But not for some one-night roll in the hay, glorious as that
would be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For now, he would have to settle for
assisting her in other ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Your tea, Drea,” he said, setting
the cup at the edge of her desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Those lips tightened for the
briefest moment. “I have asked you repeatedly to call me Ms. Fortier.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Michael fought the urge to close his
eyes and let her words settle around him like his own cloak. Instead, he slid
into the cocky grin he knew annoyed her. “I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Then why do you not comply? And
jeans? Really, Michael. What sort of secretary wears jeans to the office?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“The sort that doesn’t have normal
hours. The sort that works in his boss’s home and got hired because he could
maintain and fly that fancy helicopter.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “The
sort that does everything from research to security to unclogging drains.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He wanted to lean toward her, get
closer. To smell the elusive spice that defined Drea Fortier. A quick intake of
breath warned him he must have shifted in her direction. Her hand shot up to
ward off any contact, and the sleeve of her cloak fell back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Too late, she pulled it down. Too
late, he saw the jagged, puckered dots on her forearm. Scars he knew only the
hot end of a cigarette could make, and at an angle that was obviously not
self-inflicted. Scars that exposed a past even nightmares could not do justice
to. Scars he could not erase for her, no matter how much he wished for exactly
that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Michael stepped back, his fists
tight against his sides to keep him from pounding a thousand holes in the wall
with his bare hands. He knew about pain, both good and bad. This was very bad.
Drea had seen violence in her life. When and how he didn’t know, but he
intended to find out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For now, he suppressed the
questions, and his libido, and allowed her the rigid control she clung to like
a lifeline. Some day in the near future, he would help Drea move beyond her
past. First, though, she must learn to trust him. Michael quieted his
breathing, focused on lips now pulled in a tight line, and uncurled his
fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I apologize—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Don’t.” Sultry gave way to steel as
she spoke. Arms clutched across her stomach stretched out as she placed her
palms on the desk. No one would notice the slight tremor in her hands or the
almost nonexistent hitch to her voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No one except him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“We will not speak of this again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It took a granite will to acquiesce
to her demand. He nodded, certain that if he spoke, he’d say enough to get an
instant pink slip. He couldn’t leave her. Not now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Maybe not ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Drea turned to her computer. “I’ve
selected an applicant and would like you to do the usual research and
background check.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finding the switch back to business
difficult to match, Michael grunted his consent, executed a military
about-face, and closed the office door behind him with quiet precision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sitting at his desk, he stared at
the application on his screen. Another lost soul his employer chose to help.
He’d thought her crazy when she first had him run the obscure advertisement,
but this was the third one they’d worked on together. Helping others to heal
seemed to feed her soul. And it proved to him that Drea knew what hope was.
That, and that alone, provided the momentum for Michael’s belief that he could,
in turn, help her. What had she gone through that she’d shut herself in this
dark box? Michael meant to find the key.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One of these days, he’d unlock the
secrets that had turned Drea into a recluse who trusted no one. One of these
days, he’d find out who had scarred her, both physically and mentally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And God help that person when he
did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Masquerade (Secrets, 1) is available here:</span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/masquerade-by-lace-daltyn/">Evernight Publishing</a> / <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Masquerade-Secrets-Book-Lace-Daltyn-ebook/dp/B00KKBZ44G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1408330534&sr=8-1&keywords=masquerade+by+lace+daltyn">Amazon US</a> / <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Masquerade-Secrets-Book-Lace-Daltyn-ebook/dp/B00KKBZ44G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1408330592&sr=8-1&keywords=masquerade+by+lace+daltyn">Amazon UK</a> </span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/masquerade-lace-daltyn/1119628961?ean=2940045970082">B&N</a> / <a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-masquerade-1522659-149.html">AllRomance</a> / <a href="http://www.bookstrand.com/perception-mf">Bookstrand</a></span></o:p><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Other books in the Secrets series:</i></span></o:p><br />
<o:p><a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/ivory-tower-by-lace-daltyn/"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Ivory Tower (Secrets, 2)</i></span></a></o:p><br />
<a href="http://www.evernightpublishing.com/perception-by-lace-daltyn/"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Perception (Secrets, 3)</i></span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Coming Soon: Pandora's Shame (Secrets, 4)</i></span><br />
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Evernight Marketinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17367176788558179504noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6077585461096049758.post-6521238595540758362014-08-11T07:00:00.000-04:002014-08-11T07:00:07.305-04:00Preview the First Chapter of PERFECT STRANGERS by Kerri M. Patterson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Perfect Strangers (Bound by Honor, 1)</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">by Kerri M. Patterson</span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">Blurb:</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Chloe
Burgesse is crushed after being left at the altar. She thought her life was
complicated before embarking on her should-have-been honeymoon—alone. She had
no idea how much worse it could get when a Special Forces soldier takes a leap
onto her car. She didn’t see the Pandora's box she'd opened for herself by
offering aid. She didn’t see the attraction to Jericho coming, nor did she
intend to fall in love with a perfect stranger.</span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Master
Sergeant Jericho Eden is in Brazil doing reconnaissance work on a
suspected terrorist compound when his team becomes scattered. On his way to his
execution, a woman unwittingly offers aid. Together they are thrust into a
world of duplicity and danger. Nothing new for Jericho, but Chloe's only chance
of survival relies on his instincts, skill, and discipline—something he is
having a hard time getting a grip on with his new distraction.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: black;">~ Chapter
One ~</span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: large; font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Approximately
1300 hours, Friday</span></i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Rio de
Janeiro,</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Brazil</span></i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Hey, watch out!" Chloe</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> Burgesse </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">shouted at the paint-chipped and
dented used-to-be gold sedan as the car slipped in front of her from out of
nowhere, tires screeching and squealing. Chloe's back came off the seat as she
braked, too. The driver ahead succeeded in gaining only a few feet before a
tight throng began to spill into the streets between the cars, halting traffic.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She let out a long sigh.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Geez</i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">some people
should learn to drive</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">. However, in this country she could consider</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> herself </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">lucky not to have been run over by
now. Chloe snorted, watching the passers-by, and gripped the wheel a little
tighter. A flicker of annoyance raced through her as she noticed the odd
absence on her ring finger where a four-carat ring</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">used</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">to encircle, no diamond there now to turn between her fingers as
her grip increased.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She honked again, this time with a
pinch more aggravation. Pedestrians were the</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">only</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">things here
that seemed to slow traffic at all. She glanced down on the map across her
knees once more as the shoppers milled between the cars, tracing the road with
her finger.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe thumped the map, seeing the
road she needed to be on several blocks</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> over, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">and smacked
the map down into the passenger seat—the apparently</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">outdated</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">map she had picked up at her travel brochure acclaimed, five-star,
yet nonetheless dirty, hotel. Chloe pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of
her nose and sighed, teeth tightly clamped together.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">This day marked the seventh—and
last, thank God—day of what should have been her honeymoon in what she</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">thought</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">would be paradise. Wrong. Not that any of the should-have-</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">beens </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">mattered. The</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">not</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">-honeymoon vacation matched the
complete aura of her life right now.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She had never wanted to leave a
place more. Even the reminder of what awaited her at home didn’t deter her want
for normalcy.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Betrayed and left at the altar,
she'd found out a little too late her groom wouldn’t make their
ceremony—because he'd already married another woman a week before. And what
hurt the</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> most, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">this hadn't
been an
I-lost-control-and-accidentially-married-a-stripper-in-Vegas-during-my-bachelor-party
kind of thing. The happy new couple had known one another for several months,
and all the while he had pretended to be loyal to Chloe.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She had seen the warning signs, but
had chosen to ignore the red flags without a single question.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Still, she didn't understand his
tactless retraction from their relationship.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">After the botched ceremony had been
cleaned up and her unused gown stuffed somewhere out of sight—she suspected for
her mother's fear she might shred it, too—her youngest sister had suggested she
take the “honeymoon” alone.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe could still hear her sister,
kneeling down beside where she had sat huddled in a chair, grieving and
bemoaning her life.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hey,</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">her sister
had said.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The
trip is paid for, so why not? Take some time to recuperate, let off steam, and
perhaps have a fling with a hot Brazilian. What happens in</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Brazil, stays in</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Brazil,</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">the quirky
nineteen-year-old pest had suggested.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">None of which had happened.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe had picked up the already
packed suitcase without another thought and let her sister whiz her to the
airport where she clambered onto the plane at the last second and took full
advantage of the in-flight drink menu.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">At the time, she had only wanted a
distraction to make her forget, to be somewhere far, far away from her</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> sucky </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">life. Somewhere she couldn’t bump into</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">him</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So much
for getting away. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her mind hadn’t allowed her.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The entire seven days in</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Rio</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">had been spent in reflection
and beating</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> herself </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">up over the
entire relationship. On top of that, she had gotten food poisoning.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> Gotten sunburned. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Slipped on a freshly mopped (or
slopped) floor and ended up with a sore tailbone and ruined white</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> capris</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">. Now she'd managed to get lost on the edge of the city as she
headed for the airport in her rental.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe lay on the horn as the jackass
in the sedan swerved and then braked hard in front of her. She came very close
to driving her car right up his ass.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">"For
the love of Pete!" </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe euphemistically cursed, pounding the
steering wheel, sending three clearly perturbed short</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">honks</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">to the other driver. "Only a few more miles," she
yelled,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> then </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">huffed.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe</i>. And
if I don't wreck the car that would be awesome. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Thanks!"</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The vehicle shot to the far right,
off the road, sending up a cloud of dust as the driver veered around a jeep
ahead. The jeep wisely turned into a drive, but this left Chloe following the
raging driver again.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She clenched her teeth and groaned
as she came back into a residential neighborhood. The street narrowed snugly
between buildings, and her speed slowed drastically for the sake of more
pedestrians. Steadily, she watched the driver ahead. His impatience was evident
in the way he swerved left to right in a constant zigzag.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"It's not like your going to
pass anyone here," she mumbled, momentarily throwing her hands in the air
over the steering wheel, then smacking her palms back on and gripping hard. She
sighed deeply and fell back against her seat to rub at her forehead.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">A headache was beginning to
strengthen, tightening like a band around her skull.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe counted the rows of clothing
fluttering on lines above, connecting from building to building in the
impoverished neighborhood. At last, the line of cars exited the one street onto
a busier thoroughfare. She made a point to get around the angry driver, casting
a sharp glare out her window as she accelerated past.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe blew out a breath, relaxing,
but suddenly her shriek-growl filled the compact car as the driver yet again
swerved back into her lane, tightly. All lanes seemed to freeze simultaneously,
and much honking chorused objectionably to the halt. Her car, unluckily, ended
the procession, the jam far enough ahead she couldn’t see what had happened.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Great. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe
slammed back in her seat, this time with much more gusto, and checked her
watch. She still had two hours, fortunately, but after a miserable week, she
itched to be on the plane headed home to</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Charlotte,
back home to her mom and her two unruly sisters.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">An odd movement in the car ahead
caught her eye then.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe blinked, squinting as she saw
the movement again. "What in the…" Chloe scrunched her nose as she
peered closely over her steering wheel, gripping the worn leather tightly. Had
the back-end of the car … bounced?</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her eyes flared.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The trunk did it again!</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She gasped as a boot-print imbedded
the trunk lid of the gold sedan, from the inside out. Chloe sat rigidly. Her
eyes widened even more as another dent obtruded up from the top of the trunk.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her spine stiffened, and she jolted
back into the seat, riveted to the tail end of the car. Her hand fluttered to
her open mouth. She lost her breath at the sharp realization.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Oh-my-God," she breathed
in a rush. The irate driver had a</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">person</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">in his
trunk!</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The cars began to move again, though
slowly. Chloe inched along in fascination, picking up pace but making sure to
stay three car-lengths behind the erratic driver. She really couldn’t afford to
pay for her rental on top of the weighing debt from a wedding that didn’t
happen, although the insurance on file for her rental was under her ex's name.
If anything happened, she would undoubtedly be stuck with that expense, too,
since she had fudged the paperwork at the rental agency.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Technically, she</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">was</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">still on his insurance, but didn’t want to have to deal with him
to clear anything else up.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">They had said all that needed saying
on their should-have-been wedding day.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe continued to watch the trunk
for any signs of movement.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Swallowing hard, she admitted she really
wasn’t sure what to do. Did she dare get involved in a criminal case in a
foreign country when she was due to leave within a couple hours? Or let someone
else on the busy thoroughfare call in on the deviant driving the gold sedan.
She looked around. There were plenty of other passersby. They would surely
notice, too.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe scoffed to herself as she
realized she didn’t even know any emergency numbers in</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Brazil,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> then </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">cringed.
Naive, wasn’t that what</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">he</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">had called her the last time they spoke, in the gigantic argument
over the phone, which had reverberated throughout the entire church?</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The trunk bounced ahead of her,
nearly bumping the road.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She pursed her lips and fixated her
stare and mind on the footprint. Judging by the size, that surely wasn’t a child
in the trunk. Her worry edged a bit, though her brow remained furrowed. The
trunk bounced several more times, more heavily than before, nearly contacting
with pavement.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe chewed her lip, worrying and
pondering over what she should do.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She had sworn off being kind and
generous, accused of being too nice by her ex. He had accused her of a healthy
number of faults, which had all stabbed too deeply. She'd never thought a
person could be too</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">good</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">. Apparently that was the taboo
thing to be and not what a man wanted anymore—not what</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">he</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">had wanted.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She sucked in a little sob at the
same time as her eyes flared wide. Chloe slammed her brakes as the car's trunk
flew upwards. She screamed when a man's face, bloodied and haggard, came into
view. Their stares clashed for a brief second as he struggled free of bindings
around his shoulders and sat up, catching the trunk lid from flopping closed
again.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe screamed louder.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Though she had watched all along,
somehow she had not expected</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">quite</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">the sight
before her.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Wide-eyed and still screaming, both
Chloe's hands flew to cover her mouth. A wisp of a second elapsed before she
jumped to grab the wheel and regain control, her rental coming close to the
other vehicle as her tires squealed.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hesitation flickered in the briefest
instant.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This poor
man, he'd been tied up and looked to have been tortured. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe peered
around him into the trunk, expecting the worst.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Shit, shit,
shit.</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her silent
mantra began.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Guilt instantly swallowed her for
not immediately trying to signal someone for help, too caught up in her own
dilemma.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Too caught up trying to be someone
she wasn't.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">But how
could I help him?</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe
wondered, watching the man search the surrounding road, blood crusted on the
side of his face. Other cars whizzed past, honking, staring,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">laughing and
pointing</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">, but no one stopping to do anything.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">A noise of disgust escaped her.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Did they think this was joke?</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> A stunt?</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe glanced around, too, but saw
no movie cameras.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Something snapped in her then. She
was sick of the world and sick of the uncaring assholes in it. Humans lived to
hurt one another and nothing else.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">They might not want to be kind, but
damn it, she was a kind person.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">A seedling of doubt sprouted.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She might be caring, but she was not
of hero material by any stretch of the mind. She would stop and help an old
lady if she spilled her purse, but this…. Helping this man was out of her
league for kindness.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe's shoulders slumped, watching
the lid to the trunk as it flopped above the man's arm where he kept it from
hitting him on the head. He seemed unsure.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Trapped. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">He struggled
to pull himself free of ropes around his legs.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She didn’t know what came over her
then, because normally she tended to stay within the beloved “box”, never
daring a thought of</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> trespassing </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">those boundaries,
but obviously that wasn’t working well for her anymore. Chloe clenched her jaw.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her ex had claimed she was too
predictable, too boring.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">A little pang began to ache in her
heart, but Chloe chased the memory away with a snort.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Ha!</span></i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She could be unpredictable and still
be caring.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She sped up, bumping the other car
with a slight sense of glee, and beckoned the man to take the leap onto the
hood of her car. He looked at her strangely through the windshield, panicked
almost. His look made her wonder if he would take the offered help.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She watched as he kicked ropes from
his feet, and a tangled net of bindings flew from the trunk as he tossed them.
The gold sedan swerved, now well aware its prisoner had freed himself.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe bumped the gold sedan again,
harder this time as the driver attempted an all out stop. Just as the other car
swerved to the side, the man from the trunk leapt out, catching onto the top of
her hood, near the wipers. He grunted at his landing, slipping across the hood,
his long legs going over the side. In the last instant, as she thought he would
surely slip to the pavement and be hit by an oncoming car, he pulled himself
back up.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe tapped her brakes. The
stranger growled as he tried to hold on and cast</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> her
a </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">look of annoyance through the glass as his body slid up the
windshield from her sudden halt.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She swerved again, hitting the gas.
The bumpers caught between her car and the gold sedan, sending them in a
spiral, and the other car crashed headlong into a ditch and the trunk snapped
shut.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">As Chloe sped by, feeling triumphant
and rushed with adrenalin, she saw the other car's engine steaming. She hoped
she hadn't killed the person, no matter how bad they were. Terrified, she kept
going, though in the wrong direction of traffic. Many honks sounded around them
as cars swerved out of her way. Chloe gassed the car, breaking intermittently
as car after car sent her swerving, too.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Drive," the tortured
stranger shouted. "Don't stop." He grunted. Blood smeared against the
windshield and light green paint of the hood as he pulled himself toward the
passenger side of her car. Chloe met his incensed stare, nodding wildly and
tried not to hit her brakes again. She reached over to roll down the window,
keeping one hand on the wheel.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Somewhere deep, deep inside she
began to wonder if she had gone completely crazy.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe squeaked out a tiny shriek as
the man threw his long legs around and slipped inside, effectively filling the
small car with his dominating size. He gave her a strange look, as though he
thought her insane, too.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe swallowed her tongue and
gawked, her stare quickly falling down him.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> Her
foot unconsciously pressing a little harder on the gas-pedal.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">His tan t-shirt had open slashes in
several places, bloody gashes revealed underneath. Tan pants showed proof he
had been through little less than hell. Her gaze halted on the empty gun
holster strapped around his thigh.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">What in the
heck</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">had</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">happened to this man?</span></i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Her gaze flickered back up his body,
and she stopped to wonder at the smudged—was that</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">paint</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">on his
face?—blotches of black and green, too.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe swerved again as another
passing car caught her attention. She quickly looked between the stranger and
the road.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">There was a bleeding, very large man
in her car.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She swallowed.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">What</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">had she done?</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She meant to ask,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was </i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">he was all right?</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Should she
take him to a hospital? Where was the hospital? What happened?</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> but </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">none of that came out.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe shook her head, gaping. She
was without a doubt shell-shocked, and now that he was inside her car, Chloe
was not entirely sure she had intended to let him inside—it had just</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">happened</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Set your cruise control. Give
me the wheel." His voice was deep and rough.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Reality pounded away at her,
adrenaline thumping in her veins.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe stifled a cry as his long
tanned fingers slipped around the wheel beside her own. Still glancing between
the passenger side and the road, she groped to release her seatbelt, and then
attempted what he said by fumbling for the little switch on the end of the
signal control, first sending her turn signal blinking left, and then right.
Chloe flushed, and glancing down, she tried again. Her wipers swiped across the
windshield, and she cursed, giving up and tearing her focus away from the
stranger and road long enough to do what he'd asked. She set the cruise
control.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">He gave her a half-smile.
"Great, you’re doing fine." His voice was so deep and smooth and calm
she almost believed him. "Now, I want you to crawl into the backseat and
keep your head down."</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"What!" Chloe's voice
trembled. She looked at him as though he were insane for the suggestion. She
gave a little whimper as she looked at the tight space between him and the
console.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">He didn’t so much as glance at her
as he steered from the passenger seat. "Just do it."</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Shakily, she managed, lifting
herself from the seat and trying not to make contact with the stranger as she
slipped over the console. Her knees and butt dipped to the floorboard, and she
pulled her legs through the gap, then inched onto the seat and buckled herself
in.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The man commandeering her rental
pulled himself into the driver's seat after her and adjusted for his height,
muttering curses as the driver’s seat slammed back to accommodate his legs.
Their car shot forward and turned right.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Who are you?" Chloe asked
as she ducked into her lap and splayed her hands against the back of her
midnight hair. "Please, oh please, tell me you're not a terrorist or in a
cartel." She panicked, fear bringing sobs. She squeezed her eyes, berating
herself for the burst of impulsiveness.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The car rocked as he swerved for a
pedestrian. Chloe's head shot up in alarm. A stack of papers knocked from the
hands of the person on the street fluttered behind them.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She tried to scream, opened her
mouth, but nothing came out, and so she quickly dropped her head back to her
lap and silently prayed she wouldn’t get killed.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"My name is Jericho Eden."
He paused to glance back at her. "And no, I am not a terrorist—unless of
course you're a terrorist, then you might consider me such … You're not a
terrorist, are you?" He cut another quick glance into the backseat, in
attempt to ease her fear, and grinned despite the blood caked on the side of
his face and in his hair, evident bruising swelled along a strong,
darkly-bristled jaw.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Chloe shook her head dumbly, peeping
up from her knees. "Me? No."</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Good, Chloe. Things might have
gotten really awkward between us had you said yes."</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She paused,</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> then </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">came to edge around the seat precariously.
"How do you know my name?"</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"It's on your bag," he
said, turning off the road they had been on, onto the tight street she had
traveled some twenty minutes earlier.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">They sped along, the people there
scattering out of their path. Chloe peeked from over the console. He turned the
car back in the exact direction she had come and then off the road the jeep had
taken earlier when the sedan sped off the road.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">As their car bounced over the
unpaved area, Chloe cut her eyes to her bag beside her in the backseat.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Of course</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">, she
mentally grumbled.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Don't worry. I promise I won't
hurt you." Chloe's attention flinched back to him. Their eyes caught in
the rear-view mirror. "I'm one of the good guys," he said.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">She swallowed hard, but didn’t drop
her gaze. "Then how did you end up in someone's trunk and looking like
that?" she asked, her tone rattled. She flicked her gaze over his torn and
bloodied clothing, his bruises and cuts.</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 13.5pt;">The stranger winced as a grim
expression crossed over him. His stare returned to the road ahead, a darkness
filling his gaze.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2013 Kerri M. Patterson</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
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