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Tempted at Christmas (Christmas at Castle Keyvnor Book 4)

His Mistletoe MissAnthony Beck, Viscount Redgrave, has always done what was expected of his title and station. Ever the dutiful son, he abides by his mother’s requests even when they tend to the ridiculous. There is no other reason, after all, that he would visit a gypsy camp to acquire a piece of dead mistletoe that should rejuvenated itself once he is on the path of true love. Luckily at the gypsy camp, he happens upon the one lady he’s always wanted to court. Unfortunately, she’s in love with her guardian…


Miss Holly Prescott is not in love with her guardian. It is her duty, however, to make certain that nefarious young ladies with hopes of becoming his duchess, don’t trap him into a loveless marriage. While attending the Christmas Eve weddings at Castle Keyvnor, Holly learns that the nearby gypsies could be of help in that regard. However, she did not expect to stumble upon the handsome and oh-so-honorable Lord Redgrave in the process. 
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Her Mistletoe Miss Copyright © 2017 by Jane Charles
CHAPTER ONEBlast! The bodice was, well, so uninspiring. No matter how she drew it, scooped or squared, Holly Prescott achieved the exact same result—dull. And the sleeves—redundant. There must be something that she could come up with that was new, inventive and would set society on its ear, but all of her creative talents had abandoned her this day.Setting her pencils aside, Holly rubbed her cold hands together then blew into the palms to warm them as she glanced out the window and into the gardens below. Alarm rioted through her body. “Oh, this will never do,” A young woman, with whom she was not yet acquainted, was gazing up at Ethan, the Duke of Westbury, as if every word he spoke dripped of gold. Why were the two even in the gardens? It was December and nothing was in bloom, though Holly had no doubt that in the spring and summer the gardens at Castle Keyvnor were nothing short of glorious and an inspiration to any artist’s eye. Was the chit actually fluttering her eyelashes at Ethan? Holly stood to get a closer look, and the sketchpad slid from her lap, thudding against the muted blue and cream rug, followed by her pencils that rolled in every direction, but she couldn’t worry about them now. Not when a miss was giggling up at Ethan. Or at least Holly assumed the miss giggled since she delicately covered her mouth with a gloved hand.Holly adored Ethan, she truly did, and would be forever grateful that he’d taken her in six years ago upon the death of her brother, but in short, His Grace was far from humorous. Stodgy, stern, strict, and caring, but not amusing. Further, he was a fool.Goodness! Was the miss now blushing? It must be the cooler temperatures causing the misses’ cheeks to color because Holly couldn’t imagine Ethan ever saying anything that would cause anyone to blush. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever hearing him curse, let alone say anything inappropriate. Had he not been heir to a dukedom, Ethan would have done quite well as a vicar. Not that he was overly religious, but he shared the same drab temperament as any minister Holly had ever known.Despite any lack of personality, it wasn’t any wonder so many misses sought Ethan out. He was the Duke of Westbury after all and any single lady whom Ethan had encountered only saw the title, without a care for the man. They were really no different from Ethan’s youngest sister, Lady Ivy, who also sought a duke of her own instead of love.Foolish! A title was cold comfort if one was not happy in a marriage.Holly had already lost count of the number of times she’d stepped in and saved Ethan from being trapped since she’d made her coming out three years ago, and if Holly had one goal, it was to see Ethan married well and happy.  Just because he was a duke, and must marry and produce an heir and spare, did not mean he shouldn’t find love as well. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Ethan. Certainly there was a lady who would appreciate him, tedious though he may be, more than they desired the title.  “What will never do?” Oliver Dallimore asked from behind and Holly spun around. Oliver was her dearest friend, as well as Ethan’s cousin. “And why of all places are you in here? This room is as cold as what I imagine a dip in the Thames would be this time of year.” Then he looked at the large fire in the fireplace and frowned. Large and bright as it may be, the flames had done little to bring warmth to the room. “This is the quietest public room in the castle and I wished for a place to sketch in peace. My chambers face north and are rather dark without any direct sunlight.” She glanced around and shrugged. “The cold is probably because of the ghosts.” Holly assumed that was the reason for the chill because half a dozen spirits had been gathered when she walked into the parlor, not that she minded of course. It wasn’t as if they were harmful. They’d been somewhat surprised, or at least she assumed that was the expression on their nearly transparent faces when she acknowledged them with a mere nod. But, she couldn’t be bothered with ghosts right now, even if she was intruding on their gathering. “Not you too?” He rolled his eyes as he picked the sketchbook from the floor. “Just because something probably happened that others cannot explain, a hysteria has developed so that now anyone who steps into this blasted castle is convinced they’ve encountered a being from another realm. It’s nonsense, I assure you.”Holly glanced at the four she could still see and smirked. The little boy, who probably wasn’t any older than five, ducked his head. Holly didn’t mind seeing ghosts that were older since they’d lived a full life, but her heart ached to see one so young and taken far too soon.Oliver flipped through her sketches, pausing on occasion to study the drawings.  “These are very nice. It is a shame you were the daughter of a baron and are now the ward of a duke, otherwise, you’d do quite well as a modiste.”“That’s very kind of you.” She took her book from Oliver and stared down at her latest design. These were her future. She might be everything Oliver stated, but her dowry was only five thousand pounds and the small manor on the coast near Tintagel. With so little to offer, Holly did not expect to marry, which was why she’d made a plan for her future. Once she achieved her majority in two years, she would return home and become a dressmaker.How she missed her home. She’d not been back in nearly two years, though Westbury assured her that the property was well cared for. It was still her home and no matter how long she’d lived with Westbury and his youngest sister, Prescott Place would always be home. “You never answered me,” Oliver interrupted her thoughts. “What would never do?”With that, Holly returned her attention to the gardens below. “Another miss has set her sights on Ethan, and I’m certain the cap shall quickly follow.”“Just because a young lady speaks with Ethan does not mean that she immediately begins planning their wedding,” Oliver argued as he sidled up next to her, rubbing his arms as if to get warm. Goodness, she could see his breath. No wonder no other guests had ventured inside this sitting room, lovely though it may be. The wool gown she’d chosen for today must be warmer than she realized because other than her fingers being cold, Holly was quite comfortable.“She is quite lovely,” Oliver murmured.“I suppose, but she really should have chosen a different color for her pelisse. A redhead should never wear yellow.” Holly nibbled on her fingernail, a horrible habit that she must break, but how could she when her guardian was in danger. “Besides, Ethan doesn’t need lovely. He needs a lady who will care for him more than the title or his wealth.” “Ethan can take care of himself. Do give the chap some credit.” “I do, but neither you nor Ethan can possibly understand the female mind and the manipulative thoughts that can take root when a single duke, who is not unpleasant to look upon and young enough to enjoy spending time with--even if he is dull--is present.”“Yes, by your description, I can’t imagine why ladies don’t flock to Ethan’s side the moment he steps into a room,” Oliver offered sarcastically.Oh, she wished Oliver would take this seriously, but he simply did not understand. “They do, just not physically. Instead, they quietly scheme on how to get him alone and thus ruin him.”“Last I heard, it is a lady who is ruined and never a duke.”“And most ladies would willingly serve themselves up and risk a sterling reputation if it meant they’d become a duchess in the end.” Oh, something must be done and Holly was just now realizing that it would be harder than ever to protect Ethan at the castle than at a ball or any other entertainment where each location was limited and one could eavesdrop on plans in a retiring room. But how could she protect him here, of all places?If any of the ladies she’d encountered in these last three years had truly cared for Ethan, then Holly would have stood back and let love take its course. Unfortunately, Ethan, as with most gentlemen, was easily susceptible to flattery, which was why she must continue to protect him as she had since she was eighteen. “Please inform me when you have vanquished the ruinous lady from Ethan’s side so that I might be available to comfort her.”Holly slid a look at Oliver and smiled. “Oh, you are a rogue, dear Oliver.”He smiled unashamedly. “I rather enjoy repairing the hearts of those Ethan dismisses.”Holly snorted. “Hearts have yet to be involved.”“True,” he mused. “Still, it is my duty, as his cousin, to soothe any disappointment.”“Be careful you don’t find yourself trapped either.”“My dear, does that mean you’d try to protect me as well?” he chuckled.“You are the last gentleman of my acquaintance who needs any protection. But, just so, you tend to walk a little too close to the line dividing propriety and impropriety, and if you aren’t careful, you will deserve what you get in the end.”“Ah.” Oliver nodded toward the gardens. “Another heart broken, or disappointment to be soothed. You must excuse me.”Holly glanced out the window. Ethan tramped back toward the castle, his head down and shoulders raised as if he were cold, while the young miss watched, her features strained in disappointment. “Be kind, Oliver, but not too kind.”“A romantic heart,” someone whispered. Holly whirled to the unfamiliar voice and her heart nearly lodged in her throat. Before her stood a knight of old. Bearded and dressed in chainmail beneath a white tunic that displayed a red cross of the Templars. “Who are you?”“Sir Gervase.” He bowed deeply as one would expect of a chivalrous knight. “You wish to protect this duke from all women?”“No. Just scheming ones.” She glanced down at the gardens again. “But I have no idea how I can ensure his happiness.”“Perhaps a spell of enchantment, or a talisman.”Was he suggesting…“Magic?”Only a slight nod was offered.“Magic can protect him or help him find love?”“Nothing is impossible in Bocka Morrow,” Sir Gervase assured her. “Might I suggest the Gypsies or the witches? They will provide you with what you seek.”Holly turned fully toward Sir Gervase with interest. She’d heard there were Gypsies in the area, witches as well, though she wasn’t certain she wished to approach witches. Where ghosts might not frighten her, witches most certainly did.“Go to Madam Boswell.”“Who is Madam Boswell?”“An old Gypsy, wiser than anyone. She will help you.”
***Anthony Beck, Viscount Redgrave, dismounted, and tossed his reins to a waiting footman as he strode toward the entrance of Hollybrook Park. “My carriage should arrive momentarily.” He’d left it behind as they approached Bocka Morrow, needing to be free of the confines that were about to close in on him. He detested long trips across England and preferred to travel on horse when at all possible, and the journey from London to Bocka Morrow had been nearly intolerable. Once he returned to London, he’d not be traveling any distance for a very long time--years, if he could manage it. Thankfully, any travel required to his ancestral home, Halesworth Hall in Suffolk, was required only on rare occasions, and not nearly as torturous as driving to Cornwall.He’d only left Bocka Morrow a few months earlier, but had been pulled back to this blasted place. If it weren’t for Christmas, family and his mother’s insistence, Anthony would not be attending the wedding of the Earl of Banfield’s daughters to some local Cornishman and Lord Blackwater, respectively, at Castle Keynor of all bloody places.  Until a few months ago, it had been years since he’d set foot in Bocka Morrow or Castle Keyvnor, and that was only because his parents deemed it necessary that he attend a blasted will reading. Anthony still didn’t understand why his presence had been needed at all, but he was glad he had been there since his sister, Charlotte, had met and quickly married Adam Vail, who had since become Viscount Lynwood. Had it not been for extenuating circumstances, Anthony would have objected to such a quick marriage. But, as Charlotte’s very life had depended upon her being wedded, and had he not seen a magical emerald glow himself, or witnessed a very real ghost attempt to take Charlotte’s life, Anthony would not have stood for such foolishness as a Gypsy wedding. Thankfully, that very marriage also allowed Anthony to avoid Castle Keyvnor until it was necessary to attend the Banfield nuptials, as he would be staying at his sister’s home and not the damned haunted castle. At one time Anthony had assumed the rumors of hauntings at Castle Keyvnor were simply gossip to keep people away, or that perhaps there’d once been a gifted storyteller and others believed his tales to be true. After less than a week at the castle, Anthony had become a firm believer in ghosts and spirits, as well as the power of witches.Thankfully, Hollybrook Park was blessedly not haunted, nor had there ever been rumors of a haunting, not even Adam’s grandfather who died three weeks after Charlotte and Adam married in the Gypsy camp. The old viscount had insisted on a second wedding, one in the church, after banns were read, to be certain of the legality. The next day, he suffered an apoplexy and died. Charlotte had written that the servants believed he’d died of fright. Had the deceased viscount been at Castle Keyvnor, Anthony might have readily accepted the possibility, but since he’d been in his own home, Anthony assumed the old man’s heart had finally given out as there was absolutely nothing frightening at Hollybrook Park“Viscount Redgrave,” the butler greeted him. “I’ll advise Lady Lynwood of your arrival.”Anthony cooled his heels and waited in the marble foyer, though it felt odd to do so in his sister’s home. Voices came from the parlor and the sitting room. Male and female. Was Charlotte entertaining? It wasn’t like her to do so, and Lynwood had lived almost as a recluse for over a year prior to meeting Charlotte.“Anthony, what are you doing here?” Charlotte asked as she came down the corridor. Their mother followed on her heels.“I’m to attend Banfield’s daughters’ weddings.”“Yes, of course, I just hadn’t expected you so soon,” his mother answered. “Given it is a wedding, and I know how you detest them, I thought you’d arrive at the last minute, not four days early.”He did hate weddings, but as there was nothing to keep him in London, he’d come early to spend time with his family, especially his younger brother, William, who was also here on holiday from Eton. “Well, I am here now.” He turned to Charlotte. “I’m sure you don’t mind putting me up for a few days.”Charlotte and Mother shared a look before his younger sister glanced back at him. “I have no room available.”How was that possible? Hollybrook Park wasn’t exactly small.“You should have let Charlotte know that you intended to stay here,” his mother chastised.“She’s my sister, so I obviously assumed…”“Anthony, it is not like you to ever assume anything,” his mother responded, her pale eyes full of worry.  “Yes, well…” In that his mother was correct, he never left anything to chance, unlike his younger brother Michael who wagered on nearly everything. “Charlotte is my sister and as it is Christmas and I am to attend the wedding, at your insistence, why would you assume I’d stay at the castle when I could be with family?” “Oh, I wished I’d known.” Charlotte worried her bottom lip.Did they truly expect that he’d stay at that blasted, haunted castle over Hollybrook Park?“Many of the wedding guests asked to stay here as they are too afraid to sleep at the castle,” his sister explained.Of that, Anthony could not blame them. But, he was her brother so certainly she could find a place for him. “It doesn’t need to be a nice room. Maybe something you wouldn’t wish to give another guest. I really don’t mind.”“I don’t have anything, Anthony. I’m sorry.”Bloody hell. He was not going to stay at Banfield’s haunted castle ever again. This was his mother’s fault. “Why didn’t you make certain Charlotte had a room for me? You were quite clear that you expected my presence so I assumed you would mention my attendance to her.”“Darling, you are eight-and-twenty, old enough to advise your sister of your plans.” Damn and blast. “Do you have a spare room in the servant’s quarters? Attic? Nursery? Schoolroom?” Deep panic began to rise at the very idea that he might be forced to seek shelter at Keyvnor. Not that he’d openly admit his fear, of course, no matter how strong his current anxiety at the moment. “It’s not like the nursery or schoolroom is in use at the moment, and truly, I don’t mind.” He’d sleep in the blasted dustbin before sleeping at Castle Keyvnor again.Charlotte blinked at him. “Those rooms are already overflowing with guests. They too would rather sleep in a schoolroom than the castle and it’s been quite a chore to find beds for everyone. There is simply no place for you.”He couldn’t believe his own sister was turning him out. There had to be somewhere else he could stay that wasn’t haunted. “The inn,” he said. “I am sure to find a room there.”“Dear, those rooms were taken days ago. Relatives and guests arrived early just to be assured they’d have a place to stay other than Castle Keyvnor,” his mother explained.“Then what the blazes am I to do?” Rarely did Anthony shout or lose his temper. Well, except when his brother Michael was around, but never with his mother or sister. However, these were certainly extenuating circumstances.“Lord Redgrave could have my room.”He turned to find Miss Miranda Vail standing at the threshold of the front parlor. She was one of Adam’s younger half-sisters.“That is not necessary, Miranda. It serves my brother right for not planning ahead.” Charlotte smirked, as if she was enjoying the situation. He’d expect such a response from Michael, but not Charlotte. What had marriage done to her? “Though I daresay, this is what I’d expect of Michael, but never Anthony.”“Please refrain from finding any similarities between my younger, wastrel brother and myself,” Anthony ground out.“You know, Mother, if Anthony is slipping in his usual control, perhaps Michael might be gaining some respectability.” Charlotte was enjoying his predicament far too much. And to think she used to be his favorite sibling.Their mother chuckled. “I dare not hope such will come to be.”“Enough!” Anthony snapped, irritated with both his mother and sister for not caring that he had nowhere to sleep. “Is there any place, that is not Keyvnor, where I might stay?”“My grandmother might make room for you on the floor of her wagon,” Lynwood, Charlotte’s husband, grinned as he came down the hall.Just what he needed, another family member finding enjoyment in Anthony’s ill-fortune. Though, the Gypsies, strange lot that they were, were preferable to Keyvnor.“Truly, I don’t mind giving up my room,” Miss Miranda insisted. “I prefer the upper floor. I spend most of my time there anyway.” “She’s already been sleeping up there, if you must know,” Miss Diana Vail added as she joined her younger sister. Anthony had met all of Adam’s half-siblings when they arrived a few days after Charlotte and Lynwood celebrated their Gypsy wedding. In all, Lynwood had four younger half-sisters: Diana, Miranda, Cordelia and Adriana, as well as a younger half-brother, Edward.  Prior to Charlotte’s marriage, they’d not lived at Hollybrook Park for nearly two years. Their mother had taken them away when Adam’s older brother had become ill and slipped into madness. He finally succumbed to his illness and passed nearly two months ago, which prompted her return, with her children, to Hollybrook Park. Upon her arrival, the dowager viscountess stopped only long enough to unload her daughters and their belongings and then continued on to London. As Edward was still away at school, he was not a concern. Apparently the dowager could not wait to be free of Cornwall and insisted that it was up to Adam to do his duty by his half-siblings.“You cannot possibly enjoy being in the attic,” Charlotte insisted. “I’ll not have you give up your room because my brother failed to advise me of his intention to sleep here.”“It’s where I prefer,” declared Miss Miranda. “It’s not dull or dirty or tiny, like the servant’s rooms, but bright and open with glass doors that open onto a railed platform. The Captain had it built so that he could watch for ships through his telescope.” She grinned as if excited. “It’s much like the one Captain Cook used, though the Captain believes his telescope to be superior.”“The captain?” Lynwood asked.Miss Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “At least that was what he wrote in his diaries. Captain Jonathan Vail. He spent much of his time up there when he wasn’t sailing, and he left a treasure trove of books, journals and the like.”Miss Diana Vail crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a superior look at her older half-brother “You might as well know, Miranda has already moved all of her belongings to the attic room, and has been sleeping there almost since we arrived.” “Is that why your grandfather was so upset? He found you up there?” Charlotte questioned.Miss Miranda’s face grew pale. “No. It was something else.”“What?”Miss Miranda glanced away. “Can’t rightly say.” It was almost like she was hedging about the truth. “He wasn’t angry that I was up there. He just thought it foolishness since I had a perfectly fine chamber in the family wing.”“A room you are not using,” Anthony reminded them of his immediate concern. “Exactly, Lord Redgrave.” She brightened. “It’s yours if you’d like.”He grinned and turned to his younger sister. “I’d like very much.” “Oh, very well, but only until all the guests have gone,” Charlotte capitulated. “But we will revisit your preference for the attic, Miranda,” Lynwood insisted. “I don’t like that you are up there by yourself.” Miss Miranda frowned at her brother, but wisely held her tongue, though Anthony could read the defiance in her grey eyes.“Well, now that that is settled…” His mother clapped her hands. “Anthony, you can now escort Charlotte and me to the Gypsy camp.”He’d just arrived. He wanted a brandy and a rest. Not to traipse off to the Gypsy camp. “Can’t this wait? And why do you even need me?” Then he looked at his brother-in-law. It was his family they were off to visit. “Why not have Lynwood take you?”“I’ve matters to attend to.” With that, he turned and marched back down the corridor in the direction he had come.His mother sniffed. “A lady should always have an escort.” When his mother straightened her spine and lifted her chin as she’d just done, Anthony knew that she’d not let him be until he gave in. “Very well, but may I at least freshen up first?” She smiled serenely. “Why, of course, dear, but don’t be long.”

Valentine Wishes: The Legacy #1 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Legacy) (Baxter Academy ~ The Legacy)

Being a Baxter is all about giving — giving your time, giving money, and giving hope to those who have none.  While Jacqueline Baxter has plenty of time, money, and hope to spare, what she lacks is trust.  When Brett Robak, the FBI guy determined to win her heart, drops into her life, she has one rule — be there.  Be on time.  Be present.  Be hers.  But can Brett live up to her expectations?  

When tragedy strikes and Brett’s not there, how can Jacqueline ever trust him again? Will she be able to see past her own pain and loss to realize that love is more important than a series of coincidences and hands on a clock?
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Valentine WishesCopyright © 2016 by Jane Charles
Baxter Art Camp – June, 2003
The red lights flash in my rearview mirror and I immediately take my foot off of the gas pedal. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I grew up here. I know about that speed trap. I didn’t even see the cop sitting there, and it took him long enough to catch up to me. It isn’t like there are any other cars on the road. I flip the blinker on and slowly pull into the parking lot of my grandparents’ plantation, now an art camp. I don’t need this now. Today. Ever. After I lower the window, I turn off the ignition and place my hands on top of the steering wheel, just like my uncle told me, and watch in my side mirror as the door on the cruiser opens and the state trooper gets out. At least it isn’t someone from the sheriff’s department. Those guys are dicks. He stops at the side of my car and looks at me. There’s a bit of humor in his brown eyes and he gives a slight nod. “License please.”I’m glad stopping me has made his day because it hasn’t made mine.I fish it out of my purse and hand it over. Another guy comes up and stands a little behind the trooper. He’s not in uniform, but slacks and a shirt. Is he a supervisor or something? He looks kind of young to be that. Cute too. If anyone should be supervising, I’d think it would be the older trooper. Not that he’s that old, maybe in his mid to late-thirties and wearing a wedding ring. The other one is closer to my age with light brown hair and blue eyes. At least, they seem blue from this angle in the mirror. Lean, fit and young. “I’ll be back.” I look up and smile, noting his nametag. “I’ll sit tight and wait, Officer Q. O’Brien.”As he walks away I switch my focus back on the side mirror. The young one is walking back to the cruiser with the cop. Damn, he looks just as good going as he does coming. Nice, tight ass, narrow waist and wide shoulders. While the older one slides into the driver’s side and talks into the mic on his shoulder, the hot one returns to the front of the squad car and faces me. His feet are planted at shoulder width, arms across his chest, watching me. Those arms are nice too. Firm, tanned, a bit muscular. Too bad he wasn’t the only one to show up. I might just have tried to get out of this ticket. He’s all yummy and I’d be happy to work out a deal. Hell, I’d even let him cuff me.Not that trying to get out of a ticket ever worked. Or, so I assume it never worked. My Uncle Gary is a cop and he’s told me all kinds of stories, and he’s seen more boobs than most guys see in a strip bar. In fact, as far as he’s concerned, the more women try to use their body or tears, the more likely they are to get a ticket.I’ve never tried to get out of them before, and I’ve had a few tickets. Truth be told, I kind of have a lead foot. That’s something I should probably start worrying about more since I just started paying my own car insurance. Ouch, that first bill hurt. Officer O’Brien gets out of the cruiser and stops next to the cute guy and says something I can’t hear. Shit! He’s holding the long metal case that has tickets in it and he takes out a pen. Cute cop nods and returns to the passenger side of the cruiser while the other one returns to my window.“Do you know how fast you were going?”I cringe. “Ten over?” I hope it isn’t more.“About that. Why were you going so fast?”“Late for work.” “Where do you work?”I nod toward the plantation house. “The camp. Our first group arrived this morning.”A smile pulls at his lips. “Oh yeah? What do you do?”Everyone around here is interested in the art camp. “Organizing events, the calendars, displays, performances, paperwork, supervising. All kinds of things.”“Well, slow down.” He hands me the ticket. “Miss Baxter.” He practically whispers my name. Weird.“I will.” I take the paper and don’t even look at it before shoving it in my purse. I don’t want to know what he clocked me at or how much this one was going to cost.He gets back into his cruiser and I look into my rearview mirror one last time to see if I can get a look at the other cop. At least I assume he’s a cop even if he isn’t in uniform. Why else would he be in the car? His face is turned to the older trooper, so I only get the profile before they drive off. Which is just fine. Even in profile he’s hot.With a sigh I start my car, pull further into the parking lot, and find my space.  My brother, Theo, is standing at the end of the drive leaning against a post, just shaking his head as I get out of my car.“One of these days you’re gonna lose your license,” he warns.“Not gonna happen.” I brush past him. “Why aren’t you at work?”“They’re at orientation. Thought I’d sneak away.”Theo is my youngest brother at eighteen and is a teen counselor at the summer long art camp my grandparents established at the plantation eons ago. Not that he does much counseling. Just watching, checking to make sure his group of campers don’t get into trouble and he helps with photography, his passion. I glance at the cigarette between his fingers. He gives me a smirk and takes a drag.“You really should quit smoking those vile things.” At least he isn’t smoking in front of the kids. Not that he’d be allowed to.“It’s all I got.”“If grandma sees you,” I start to warn.“She’ll scold, but not do anything.”He’s got that right. Theo could get away with anything where Grandma was concerned. Her baby.Theo takes another drag and then tosses the butt into the gravel behind the bushes. I turn and shake my finger at him. “You know animals pick those up and get sick. Don’t you care about the environment?”“I’m finding I’m not caring about much these days,” he says as he saunters past me.That’s the problem. Theo doesn’t care about anything and it worries me. He does have a good heart, but the only time he’s ever happy is when he’s alone with his camera. He turns, and walks backward. “Hey, I hear you have a date tonight.”My stomach flips, but not in a good way. “Yeah.”“Blind date, right?” He laughs.My friend, Ashley, fixed me up with a guy she knows, but won’t tell me a thing about him, other than he moved here about a month ago to temporarily stay with family until he can find his own place. She knows him because he’s been working out at the recreation and fitness club where she works. She’s also said he’s hot, but we don’t always agree on what is hot and what isn’t. Hell, she could have just been describing how he gets when he works out. It’s also her opinion that I don’t date enough, if ever, and need to get out. And, the reason she won’t tell me a single thing, other than his name, is because she knows me too well. The more details I have the more reasons I’ll come up with not to go. “We probably both agreed to it to get her to shut up.”Theo chuckles and shakes his head. “I bet you’re home by the time we’re roasting marshmallows if he’s anything like that last tool she set you up with.”

Between the Lines: The Academy #4 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Academy) (Baxter Academy ~ The Academy)

Ellen West seemed innocent enough, despite her being a journalist, when she moved into an apartment above Gabe Kent. And, the timing couldn’t be better. He’s on spring break and she has few commitments.  After a quick trip to New York where Ellen insists she’s going to get him some culture, matters progress in their normal fashion with both wondering if it’s possible to fall in love so quickly.
The whirlwind romances comes to a sudden halt when Ellen’s past catches up to her and she hides her fear and the truth of Gabe. Gabe can’t be with anyone he doesn’t trust and who can’t trust him, and he does his best to put her from his mind. All goes well until Ellen shows up in his classroom at Baxter Academy of Arts with every intention of doing an exposé on the school.
With his job on the line, Gabe discovers the nosey reporter might have a different agenda all together. When danger threatens, he has no choice but to help Ellen. But, will she let him? And, will they ever be able to learn to trust the other again?

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Between the LinesCopyright © 2015 by Jane Charles
Gabe – 1
“Who the hell is that?” Mateo Perez, a therapist at the Baxter Academy of Arts, says before giving a low whistle.I’m wondering the same thing.  A long-legged blonde, short skirt swinging behind her most definitely fine ass is going up the steps of the Victorian house where Mateo and I share an apartment. She’s carrying bags, as if she has been shopping, but I don’t see a car. “If I hurry, maybe I’ll find out.” Reaching back I grab my cane from the back seat.“And maybe I don’t need to get my oil changed just yet either.” Mateo is leaning around me. We’re both watching her struggle to open the door.  Wait, she’s unlocking the door. She has a key? “Dude, she lives in our house?” Mateo asks in amazement.“Apparently, and I think it’s time I got neighborly.” I grin at him and open the passenger side door. “You should probably go get that oil changed. You’re already over the mileage limit.”“I can’t let you face that heavenly sweetness all alone.” Mateo gets out of the car and walks around the front of it, meeting me on the sidewalk. “Besides, she’d look so much better with me.”I shoot him a look. “You’re blonde. She’s blonde. Boring! However, her sexy blondness with my rugged dark looks would be a beautiful combination.” He grins. “Besides, the ladies can’t resist a hot Latino.”“Well, if you see any, don’t send them around here, okay.” “Hey!” He may act insulted but I know he’s not. The one thing Mateo has never lacked is confidence. “Go get your oil changed. I got this.” I limp toward the house and Mateo rushes past me. Damn him for being able to move quicker than me. I haven’t cursed my injury in a long time, but I do today.“Let me help you,” Mateo is saying as he takes the bags from the beauty, just as I reach the steps.She smiles and it’s brilliant. Straight, white teeth, lush lips, blushing skin. “Thank you.” She turns back to the door. “My key seems to be sticking.” “Here, let me.” The door’s been touchy since we moved in. Depending on the weather, sometimes it’s impossible to open and we have to go through the back. It’s just a small inconvenience for living in an old house with cheap rent. Mateo and I snatched up the two bedroom apartment right after we started working at Baxter last summer. It’s roomy enough that we don’t feel like we are on top of each other. He’s saving every penny so he can to send money to his mom and siblings, and I’m all about building my bank account to pay off school loans since I lost my scholarship when I could no longer play football.I grab the handle, lift up on the door and turn the key. The deadbolt slides out of place, and I open the door. “Thank you so much,” the blonde says gratefully.Mateo may have got to her first, but I got the door open. Score one for me. “Hi, I’m Gabe Kent. Did you just move in?”“Ellen West.” She returns my smile. Damn she’s beautiful. “Moved in a few days ago.”Mateo steps between us. “Mateo Perez,” he says. “I’d be happy to carry these upstairs for you.”She laughs. “That’s okay, I got it.” And she takes the bags from him.Mateo and I just stand there staring after her as she goes up the stairs. My eyes are on those legs that go on forever until she disappears. “She is near perfection.”“You got that right.” Mateo whistles. “And, she’d still look better on my arm.”I ignore him and unlock the door to our apartment. “Beer?” “Sure.” He follows me inside. “Shit. I forgot. I’m on call. None for me.” “Your loss.” I toss the keys on the table and limp into the kitchen. As I grab a beer, I also take the icepack from the freezer. My knee could use the cold. It hasn’t been this bad for a while but I slipped on the wet floor at the hospital. The last thing I needed was to fucking twist this knee and can only hope it was a small irritation and nothing else.Mateo grabs a soda and plops down in his favorite chair. “So, who do you think she is?I shrug. “It can’t be Jesse’s replacement. She was here before he was hurt.”“That must be her red Audi in the parking lot,” he says. “Beautiful car for a beautiful lady.”“More like a sexy car for a sexier lady.”“She’d still look better with me,” Mateo insists. I know he’s only trying to goad me because I didn’t respond last time. “In your dreams.” I twist the top off the bottle and take a swig. “What do you think’s going to happen to Jesse?” Jesse Tinley, one of the art teachers at Baxter, was arrested this weekend, only four days ago. He was accused of having intimate relations with a sixteen-year-old girl, then beat up in jail, which included his right hand being crushed beneath the boot of a thug before being put in the ICU. The girl recanted two days later, admitting she made the whole thing up. We just got back from visiting him in the hospital, where I slipped on the wet floor. He’s going to be okay, but it’s going to take a lot of time to heal and I’m not even sure he’ll be able to sculpt again.“I don’t know, but at least he’s been cleared of any charges,” Mateo answers. “She has no idea the world of hurt she could have caused Jesse. If she’d stuck to her story, he could have gone to jail and then labeled as a sex offender after he got out. It pisses me off.” “This coming from a youth therapist.” I laugh. “You deal with troubled kids every day. Nothing should surprise you.”“I know I shouldn’t be pissed, but her making this shit up because she had some romantic notion about Jesse is just fucking wrong.” He takes a drink and sets the can down on the table. “I just hope she gets the help she needs because something isn’t right and it needs to be fixed before it spirals further out of control.” Mateo glances over at me. “They let me see the video of her by Jesse’s bed. She needs help. A lot of it.” He’s shaking his head. “Do you think Jesse will be back at Baxter?” It’s a question I’ve been wondering about.Mateo shakes his head. “I doubt it. He may have been cleared, but people will always wonder. I can’t imagine that Baxter wants that kind of speculation, especially with the kids we deal with.”“That sucks,” I say before taking another swig of my beer. “I just hope it all works out for him.” Even if he had a job to come back to, I doubt Jesse will be in any condition for a long time. More surgeries are scheduled for the hand and then intense therapy. I know what that’s like and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.There’s a tentative knock at the door and Mateo and I look at each other. I’m hoping it’s the blonde coming for a visit, even though she can’t know which apartment is ours. There are two on the first floor, two on the second and one in the former attic.Mateo jumps up and opens it. It is her and my day just got better. She’s standing at the threshold with a tentative smile. “Well, helllloooo?” Mateo greets her.“I know this is lame and cliché, but by chance, do you have a cup of milk?”
Ellen
I knew I recognized them and it was confirmed as soon as I looked at the Baxter website when I got to my apartment. Mateo Perez is a counselor and the blond hunk with piercing blue eyes is the English teacher, Gabe Kent.I can’t believe my luck.  I thought I’d have to waste the rest of spring break finding some kind of entertainment before I could begin my interviews at the school. Even though the appointment isn’t until Monday, I wanted to get here a week early and get settled. I just didn’t anticipate how small the town was and that there’s hardly anything to do here. If I can get these two to talk I can begin working on my story now.“Sure,” Mateo says, opening the door wider. Normally, I wouldn’t just go to a strange man’s apartment, especially one containing two strange men, but since they work at Baxter, I don’t feel overly threatened. The conversation I heard in the emergency department at Bellevue Hospital replays in my head. Maybe this isn’t wise, but I have a school to investigate and a story to write, and I’ve been in far more dangerous situations.“Come in,” Gabe says. “Want a beer, soda?”I bite my lip. Now’s my chance. “A beer would be nice. Thanks.”Mateo goes to the fridge and grabs a beer. “So, where did you come from, Ellen?” He twists off the top and hands it to me.“New York.”“Why are you here?” Gabe asks in surprise.I get it. This is a small, quaint town, from what I’ve seen of it. The complete opposite of New York City. “I’m working on a story and this seemed like a good place to be.” “Have a seat,” Mateo says as he hands me the beer.There’s one chair and a couch where Gabe is sitting. As he’s more in the center than on one end, I sit in the chair because I don’t want to jostle his injured knee. “So, you’re an author.” Mateo grins. “What do you write?”It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, but I don’t. This one is too easy to confirm, but I hope it doesn’t put them off. “More of a journalist.”Gabe frowns and takes a swig of his beer. “What newspaper, or is it a magazine?” Mateo asks. “Neither,” I admit. “I thought I wanted to work for a major newspaper but quickly learned after an internship that I wasn’t cut out for working for big companies. I don’t like being told what to do and what to write.” That’s why I started my blog. It was the only thing I could think of to use my investigative reporting degree for the purpose I got it in the first place. I have scores to settle and people to save. Newspapers and magazines may report on politics, but they have a whole political system of their own that I don’t want any part of. It’s the same with any corporation. You can only rise as far as you’re willing to kiss ass, and I don’t kiss anyone’s ass. “I do freelance work sometimes.” Which is the truth. I just don’t do it real often. I shrug. “And, I have a blog.” They don’t need to know that the blog is my job, and my purpose in life. And my current assignment, which I gave to myself as soon as it came on my radar, was to investigate the Baxter Academy of Arts. Not that these two need to know that, just yet. Mateo’s phone beeps and he pulls it out of his pocket and answers.“Okay, got it. Be there in a bit.”He hangs up and puts it back in his pocket as he stands. “Mag needs me. Gotta go.”Gabe simply nods. If I hadn’t researched Baxter, I’d assume Mag is a friend or something, but Mag is an Administrator of some sort at Baxter. Why would she need Mateo during Spring Break?

Casting Doubt: The Academy # 3 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Academy) (Baxter Academy ~ The Academy)

Deirdre O’Brien had briefly met Jesse Tinley, an art instructor at the Baxter Academy of Arts, one Sunday afternoon in November. After returning to classes at Vassar, Deirdre could not stop thinking about him. When spring break arrives, she knows exactly who she wants to spend it with.
Jesse Tinley was immediately attracted to Deirdre O’Brien, but they only had an afternoon together. Even though he’d like for there to be more, he knows it’s not possible. Deidre’s still in college and he has two jobs and a son. When Deidre shows up in his studio the first day of Spring break, he begins to hope for more.
Unfortunately, any romance could be snuffed out before it has a chance to begin. All because of a babysitter named Larry.
This is an expanded version of the short story that appeared in the “Fifty Ways to Kill Your Larry” box set.

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Casting Doubt Copyright © 2015 by Jane Charles

DEIRDRE
      Taking a deep breath and wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I round the corner and step onto the square. I don’t want to seem obvious so I pretend I’m out for a stroll and doing a little window shopping, just in case I happen run into him. Not that I expect to, but I’m still nervous.It’s crazy, I know. Nobody is paying attention to me. A few of the shops hold my interest and if I wasn’t intent on my main goal, I would have probably gone inside.  It’s a beautiful spring day and a number of people are out and about. Especially teenagers, enjoying their first day of Spring Break. It’s odd that the first day is a Wednesday, but from what I understand, the public schools in the district only used two snow days of the seven planned, plus they begin the school year two weeks earlier than everyone else because they’ve always gone over in snow days. Now they’re ahead of schedule. Since ending school early would mess with end of school year activities, like award banquets, prom, spring musical and graduation, they extended Spring Break by three days to give the kids, and teachers, a longer vacation before the final push. My Spring Break began yesterday at exactly three o’clock when I learned that my Wednesday morning classes were cancelled because both professors were sick. There’s a nasty flu on campus and I was ready to get out of there before I got sick too. As for my Thursday classes, one professor has been sick, another offered up homework in exchange for not attending class, and a third had already cancelled because they had an early flight to Jamaica. It’s been a long, tough semester, with half of the student body and a good number of the professors coming down with the flu in the last few weeks, some developing pneumonia, that we all just need to go somewhere else not so germ-filled. And, since I don’t have any classes on Friday, I packed and came home last night.  My friends are headed to the beach. I could go, but I’m really not in the mood for a week of partying. Okay, I could be in the mood, but I don’t exactly have the money. I’m probably the poorest student attending Vassar. Not that I care all that much, but a number of my friends and roommates just don’t get that I can’t just charge whatever I want, whenever I want, simply because it’s something I want.Besides, since this past winter, I’ve been waiting for the moment when I can run into Jesse Tinley. I met him last November and we spent a pleasant afternoon before Thanksgiving at Sullivan’s Pub. Something clicked that day, and I’m not sure what it was or if I was the only one who felt an immediate connection between us. I did come by his studio during winter break, but by the time I got to town he’d already closed down and wouldn’t be opening back up until after the first of the year. I considered trying to find out his home address, but that seemed rather stalkerish. And, it isn’t like we made plans to see each other ever again. I did try to find him on one of the many social media sites, but he isn’t anywhere to be found. I thought there would at least be a website or Facebook page for his studio, but nothing. If Alexia, the art teacher who works with Jesse and lives with my brother, Kian, hadn’t mentioned him in passing, I’d wonder if I imagined meeting Jesse. But, I had, and it’s an afternoon that has stayed with me. I can’t stop thinking about him and I need to know if there really was a connection, for lack of better description, or if I simply imagined it. Not that I intend on getting involved with anyone at this point in my life. I’ve still got two years and six weeks of school left. That’s hard enough without being in a relationship. Yet, I can’t ignore what I feel and until I talk to Jesse again, it’s going to bug me and I’ll always wonder what if.His gallery door is open and my heartbeat increases. I was only in here for a minute last time, when Jesse stopped in to let his employee know that the two of us would be at Sullivan’s.  The teenage girl had given me a nasty look. I remember working retail and wanting to get out of the store as soon as possible. Especially when there were no customers. She probably wasn’t happy about being stuck there while the owner went off for a beer.Taking another deep breath, I step inside and glance around. Paintings cover the walls. Those had not been there before. It adds a cheeriness to the place. On different stands are various ceramic work and sculptures. These are Jesse’s. Or, at least I assume they are. He is a potter and sculptor and teaches ceramics at Baxter Academy of Art in the afternoon. Baxter is not a public school, but privately run. The school year runs from the first Monday after July 4th to May 31st, with a one week break in September, December and March or April, only because they try to have the same mid-year breaks as the public school. They will go through Friday though because Baxter doesn’t concern themselves with snow days since they easily meet the state requirement of school days.“May I help you?”The same girl who was here last November is standing by the counter. Her break from high school just started and already she’s working. That must suck.At least I know Jesse isn’t around. He should be at school and as much as I’m hoping to run into him, I don’t expect to and consider this more of a practice of how I’m going to “bump” into him unexpectedly. “I’m just looking.”“Well, let me know if you need anything.” She steps forward and frowns. “Do I know you?”“I was in here last year, right before Thanksgiving.”Her eyes harden. “With Jesse.”“Yeah.” “Well, I hope you don’t want to see him now because he’s too busy.” I hadn’t even planned on asking. I was nervous enough coming in here. I’m certainly not bold enough to ask to about him. That is the whole point of hoping to run into him. Though not well planned, I was going to look over the displays and think about purchasing something then come back Friday when I assume Jesse will be around. Or, maybe later this afternoon, after school has been released.“Larry?” Jesse’s voice calls from the back.Shit! What’s he doing here now? The young woman grits her teeth before answering. “Just a minute, Jesse.” Her tone is all sweetness and light despite the quick irritation that swept across her face.“Do you know where we put the new glazes?” His voice is louder, like he’s coming nearer. My palms begin to sweat all over again.“I’ll get them,” she calls back before turning an indulgent smile on me. “Jesse would be lost without me.”“Oh, I didn’t know we had a customer.” His eyes meet mine as he steps from the back and a smile comes to his face. “Deirdre?”He remembers me. Yes!“What are you doing here?” He wipes his hands on a towel as he saunters forward.Damn, he’s just as hot as he was back at Thanksgiving. Straight, light brown hair, longer than most guys wear it, with a smile full of promise and hypnotizing green eyes. I shrug, trying to act nonchalant and praying he can’t read my mind. “Just out and about, shopping along the square.”“I’m glad you stopped in.” He hitches his hip against a display counter, completely comfortable with himself. “How’s school going?”“I couldn’t wait for Spring Break if that tells you anything.”He laughs, revealing straight white teeth. Brown hair falls over his eyes and with a slight jerk of his head, it’s gone again. “Want a cup of coffee?”“Oh, no. I’m sure you’re busy.” At least that’s what Larry had said. Really, her name is Larry?“Not at all. Just organizing the back. Larry can keep an eye on the place.”He turns toward the back and gestures.“Laurentia,” she corrects him in a teasing tone then looks at me. “Larry was fine when I was little, but Laurentia, suits me much better now that I’m no longer a child.” “Sorry. I keep forgetting.” Jesse rolls his eyes behind Larry’s back. Laurentia simply giggles. “Just don’t forget again.” There is a teasing tone in her voice that is better suited for someone much older. “Take care of the shop, will ya?”“Of course.” She smiles lovingly at him “Just don’t be long.” The hair stands up on the back of my neck. “Let me know when you want to go to lunch.” Jesse barely looks at her as he gestures to the back of his shop. “I need to be out of here by twelve-thirty.”Does Jesse even realize Larry has a major crush on him?
JESSE
I was wondering if I’d ever see Deirdre O’Brien again. I’ve wanted to, but she is way out of my league—a Vassar student working on her cognitive science degree. I’m not even sure what you do with a degree like that. She’s also only twenty. Not that that’s too young. But, I’ll be twenty-five in a few months. I’m done with school and have a nine-month-old son. She doesn’t know that and I was careful not to let it slip during our one conversation.  Nothing sends a pretty, single girl running quicker than a guy with a baby. At least that’s been my experience.I grab two cups and pour the coffee. “Shopping for anything special?”She shrugs. “Not really. Wandering around is more like it.”“Staying with your brother?” Kian, her brother, is a deputy and liaison to the school I teach at. He lives with the other art teacher, Alexia.“Yep.” She takes the cup of coffee. “Thanks.”“Do you need cream, sugar?” Shit, I hope she doesn’t want cream. I only have milk and that’s upstairs. “Just black.”Whew.“I didn’t think you’d be here. Alexia already went to school.”Damn. I hoped she’d stopped in to see me. Guess not. Still, I’m glad I was here. “I’m only part-time,” I explain. “Alexia has taken on more of the administrative duties for the department, which I’m glad, because I don’t need to close the gallery in the morning to take care of paperwork at Baxter.”Her light-brown eyebrows draw together. “Part-time?”Shit, now she’s going to think I’m a looser. An artist with a shop that does mediocre business with a part-time teaching position. “Academics are in the morning at Baxter. Art classes in the afternoon. I teach from one until school is out. Three classes each day.”“So, you need to close shop every afternoon?”“Usually,” I answer. “I don’t get much traffic in the hours between lunch and supper anyway, so it’s not that big of deal.”Deirdre’s frowning now. I wish I knew what she was thinking.“That’s a shame that you can’t be open all the time.”I shrug. “Maybe someday I’ll hire someone older than Larry who can be here. Until then, I do what I can.” Besides, it’s not just the shop and teaching I need to worry about. Not that I tell Deirdre about my other obligations. Nor is it a hardship, but I kind of like how my schedule is because it does free me for the more important things in my life. “Besides, I can work back here when I don’t have customers, so it’s a win-win situation.” Between teaching, the gallery and everything else, I have little time for ceramics and sculpting these days. As much as I wish the gallery was bustling in the morning, the quietness gives me time to do what I really love. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting down with the clay until eight at night and by that time I just want to veg in front of the television until I haul my ass off to bed a ten.Sometimes I feel more like I’m seventy than twenty-four, but since I get woken every morning around five, I need to get to bed early. At least, I’m back to sleeping through the night without interruption, so there is that. Thank goodness.”So, is this your break week?”“No.” Deirdre grins.Is she skipping school in the middle of the week? Why else would she be in town? “It’s not until next week but the teachers are either sick or giving us a break, and I got out of there as soon as I could. I don’t have to be back until a week from Monday.”I grin at her. If she’s going to be in town, my Spring Break may be better than I anticipated. Though I’d planned on spending it working to replace some of the pieces I’ve sold and to fill the empty spots on the shelves in the gallery, spending time with Deirdre would be a lot more fun.What the hell am I thinking? She’s just out wandering around and wasn’t expecting to see me. She probably went into other shops on the square but I’m the only one who offered her coffee. I open my mouth to see if she wants to get dinner tonight or maybe lunch tomorrow, since Larry is already working, when a cry comes from upstairs. I wince and all hope of seeing Deirdre again all but disappears. 

Shadows of Memories: The Academy # 2 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Academy)

Jenna Ferguson had the biggest crush on Cole Harper in high school. He didn’t know she existed. Seeing how he now has one of the worst reputations, she’s happy to have never been on his radar. Now, six years later he’s back in her life, and just when she least needs complications. She's got her hands full with her job at Baxter Academy during thy day and trying to figure out what to do with her aging grandmother who isn't at all what she used to be at night. There isn't any time in her schedule for any man these days, and most definitely not for a certain sexy fireman.
If there's one thing Cole Harper knows, it's that Jenna Ferguson needs someone to lean on, someone to love her, and that someone really should be him. He knows what she's going through with her grandmother as he's lived through a similar experience himself. If only she realized he's not the guy he used to be, and if only she'd give him the chance to prove it.



"...Heartbreakingly beautiful!  A must read for 2015!" - SummersBookBlog
                "Shadows of Memories is a romance novel that will never be forgotten by its readers. Readers everywhere will fall in love with this incredible and most compelling story of the century. Fans of the famous Fault in Our Stars movie and novel will be just as moved by this masterfully crafted and beautiful romance written by Jane Charles..." -  UniversalCreativityInc14
                "…The author totally won me over in her intro, where she discussed her life with her mother        and how her mother's memory loss affected the family. There's a lot of real life in this book, and it's jam packed with the feels..." – BestSelling Author Tammy Falkner

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Shadows of MemoriesCopyright © 2015 by Jane Charles

Jenna - 1
The sudden, loud blast of an alarm jerks me from my concentration. Bright, white lights are flashing out in the hall right outside of my office. “Fire alarm?” There wasn’t one scheduled. Not that the administration at Baxter always tells us when there’s going to be one, but this is really inconvenient. I have work to do. Then again, there really could be a fire. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the students tried to set one. Luckily, those incidents are few and far between and have only happened once since I began my employment eight months ago.I close and grab my laptop, along with the messenger bag I use as a purse, and go into the hall, wishing I had earplugs to block out that obnoxious alarm blasting over and over. The rest of the staff are also headed toward the marble stairs of the administrative building and look about as happy about the interruption as I am. This building was the old Baxter plantation house and given its age, I probably shouldn’t rule out a real fire. Shit, is there anything else I need in case the place is going to go up in flames?I throw my bag over my shoulder and grab the banister as I start down the stairs. The entire school is set up on the Baxter Plantation, which dates back to sometime in the early 1800s and is modeled after Washington’s Mount Vernon. At least that’s what I’ve been told, and that it’s bigger. Since I’ve never visited Mount Vernon, I have no idea how accurate the model is, though it looks more like Tara from Gone With the Wind with a staircase to rival the one at the Wilkes Plantation. Our offices are in what were once bedrooms, and the lower floors are filled with receiving and reception rooms, along with a couple of offices for the school’s administrators.  Damn, I forgot my cell phone. It’s charging at the side of my desk. I turn around as I reach the landing and begin to go back upstairs.“No going back in.” A firefighter in full gear is standing at the door.“My phone.”“Isn’t worth your life.” He points to the front door.Maybe there really is a fire. The others are gathering outside and Officer Kian O’Brian, the school’s liaison with the Sheriff’s Department, is standing in the center of the circular drive, directing each of the employees to drop their stuff into a cart latched to the riding lawn tractor but I’m not about to set my laptop down on a wet, dirty surface so I shoved it into my bag first.After leaving it with him, I follow the rest of the staff toward the back of the campus. We’ve each been assigned a building to help in times of evacuations. Mine is the theatre. By the sounds all around me, the alarms have been triggered in each of the buildings. Students and adults are streaming out from everywhere. Not all of the buildings can have a fire in them. Did the Fire Department even think this test through? All it takes is the smallest thing out of the ordinary to set these kids off. We can deal with a handful of kids having meltdowns or going through an anxiety attack. A whole campus is an entirely different matter. Why couldn’t they just do one building at a time?Jada Daniels is clutching a sketch-pad to her chest and a firefighter is pointing to a pile of what I assume are student belongings. She isn’t about to give it up.“Let her be.”“Students aren’t allowed to bring anything.”We’ve all heard the lectures before. When a fire alarm goes off, you’re to leave and not take time to grab personal items because it could mean life and death. I don’t know what Jada has in her sketchbook but it might as well be an appendage because it’s always with her. “Jada, were you holding the sketchbook when the alarm when off?”“Yes.”I turn back to the firefighter. “It was already in her hands, so I don’t see any harm.”He frowns but finally turns away.I help gather the kids together, away from the building, as the instructors do a head count. The same thing is happening throughout the campus while the firefighters do an inside check of all the buildings.  When they’re finished we’re all instructed to take seats in the theatre. “Great,” I mumble under my breath. I know I should be more of a team player, but I’m on deadlines.We usher the kids inside as Kian drives the tractor toward the building. Thank goodness. I didn’t like the idea of leaving my purse and my laptop just sitting out where anyone could grab it. Most of the stuff on my computer is private because I have each kid’s test scores, their college and career choices, scholarship information and all kinds of stuff nobody else needs to know about.I walk over to him and reach for my bag.“Not yet.” He grins and motions toward the theatre.
Cole
The only firefighters not at the school today are those on call at the station. They are also the ones most familiar with the setup of Baxter. The students take their seats and only a few are carrying items. They did a lot better than the teachers and staff, who grabbed all kinds of shit on the way out the door. They’re the ones who should know better. Kian is talking to a dark haired woman who looks vaguely familiar. It could be that I’ve seen her around the campus but I know that isn’t it. Where have I seen her? I know I should know her name too but it isn’t coming to me.Crap, this is going to bug me until I figure it out. She’s gorgeous so why the hell don’t I remember her name? She’s not someone I’d forget.A student hands her a book and I instantly know who she is. Jenna Ferguson! I haven’t seen her since high school. Not that I ever really talked to her that much, but I certainly noticed her. Always had her nose in a book. She was pretty back then. She’s fucking hot now. Dylan St. John comes to stand beside me, along with a few other firefighters. The buildings have been cleared and as soon as everyone’s seated it’ll be lecture time. “When did Jenna Ferguson come to work at Baxter?” I whisper to Dylan. We attended middle and high school together. He and Jenna were good friends. At least they were back then. “In June. She got her masters and is a vocational counselor.”“Damn, she’s hot.”Dylan narrows his eyes at me.“What?”“She’s still a good friend.” He leans closer. “And, I know your reputation.”I ignore his warning. “She seeing anyone?”“Would it matter?”“Hey, you’re supposed to be my friend too,” I remind him.Dylan blows out a breath and crosses his arms across his chest. “She’s not seeing anyone that I’m aware of.”This day just got better.The chief steps to the microphone and begins his speech. This exercise was to introduce the newest firefighters to the layout of Baxter and to remind those already on the department how many buildings need to be searched. It’s a refresher for the teachers and administrative staff of the importance of fire drills, and its good practice for the students. “The students and teachers did great.” There’s cheering from the audience. “The staff in the administration building failed.”Really, they failed? Everyone else is dismissed except those who have offices in the old plantation house. Kian, along with a few firefighters, starts piling bags and purses on tables as the chief begins a new lecture. “Each of those items represents a precious moment. And, each moment risks a life.” I’d like to think that if they would’ve smelled smoke or saw a flame, purses and shit would have been forgotten, but I’ve been on calls where those very things were clutched in someone’s hands when they succumb to smoke inhalation. “You may now retrieve your items.” He gestures to me and Dylan. We have the honor of giving back the items that were so precious they were willing to risk their lives.

Rattling Around: The Baxter Boys #7 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

Blurb
Noelle Dubois had the perfect life. She’d studied in Paris, became a pastry chef at a vineyard, and had the love and support of both parents.
In an instant, all that changed and now she’s back home in New York, without a job, taking care of her eight-year-old brother and living with her aging grandparents while waiting for her mother’s murderer to stand trial.
Six months of limbo.
Six months of waiting.
Six months to learn that all she ever dreamed about has gone up in smoke.
Sean Vines has dealt with his past and moved on.
He has goals and dreams, and only time and hard work will see them accomplished.
Things are good until a pastry chef and an eight-year-old boy churn up the memories from his childhood, and he learns that some things don’t stay buried permanently, no matter how much he may want them too.
Except this time it isn’t Sean who is facing horrific circumstances, but a child, and it’s his turn to step up and be that adult to help get him through this special kind of hell.  And just maybe, he’ll find a lot more than he dreamed possible.
The funny thing about dreams, they can be altered by the people you meet, and that’s when you realize that maybe you just hadn’t dreamed big enough.
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1SEAN

Can I afford to go a week without pay? No. Do I need a week off of work to get the basement done? Yes.Those stars aligned this morning by way of jury duty. I was all prepared to do my civic duty. I showed up early, hoping there would be tables in the jury room so I could sketch comfortably. I was able to do that, and calculate the amount of lumber and drywall I’ll need, before my group was called to the courtroom for voir dire. All it took was one question before I was dismissed: “Has anyone in your family died as the result of another, whether by intention or accident.” As I raised my hand, I looked over at the defense table to a clean-cut gentleman in an expensive suit and wondered who he’d killed. We were in criminal court, not civil, so the charge was murder.As soon as I got back home, I headed to the basement but so far I’ve not succeeded in escaping my memories.All it took was being back in the courtroom and that one question to bring the memories that I thought I’d buried, from the scariest time in my life, to the surface. In an instant, the anxiety and terror I experienced at the age of twelve clutched at my heart and gut, just like it did when I had to testify against the person who killed Mom—my dad.Damn, I thought all of those emotions were dealt with and buried but right now they are front and center, and I need to get a grip and push them back where they belong. I’m not that kid anymore and I did what was necessary. I got through it, so why is it back haunting me?Physical labor always helps and I’m hoping that working on the basement to get it ready so I can move down here will help purge my mind of the past and bury those emotions again. My radio station of choice is helping too—NPR, and I’m reminded that there are shittier things going on in the world and some people don’t survive like I did.Heavy feet stomp down the stairs and I know instantly that it’s Zach, one of my roommates. I’ve never understood how he can tromp around, sounding like an elephant half of the time when in regular shoes, yet practically glide on four inch heels. “Hey, the Dempseys need you to open vents,” Zach says as he jumps off the bottom step.  “Their granddaughter is going to be staying with them and is complaining about it being sweltering upstairs.” “I’m sure it is.” Fixing it to not heat the upper level also keeps the rooms from getting air, and it’s been really warm lately. “Give me a sec and I’ll head over.”“Okay. I’m going to head back. Mrs. Dempsey is kind of confused and Mr. Dempsey’s hip is bothering him.”Zach heads back up the wooden stairs, taking them two at a time as I gather the few tools I’m going to need.The Dempseys live across the street and five houses down. Zach is the one who always goes over because Mrs. Dempsey took a liking to him. The two play Gin every Sunday afternoon, and he stops in to check on them, a lot, because they remind him of his grandparents. Unfortunately, his are dead. If they were still alive, maybe we would have never met. Dylan, another roommate, sends over cakes, pies and cookies when he’s baking and trying to get his head on straight or working through a novel he’s writing. He also sends dinner at least one night a week because the only means the Dempseys have for cooking is with a microwave. I think Dylan has an arrangement with some of the neighbors to send meals on different nights of the week, but he’s never really talked about it. I just know that on Tuesdays he makes extra food.I’ve been over more times than I can count, not that I mind. It’s an old house, like ours, and Mr. Dempsey is pushing eighty and can’t keep up on the place like he once could. I’ve done everything from change a light bulb to renovate the bathroom to add a shower. The couple pretty much lives on the main level with their bed in the dining room. It’s a five-story brownstone like ours with the living room, then dining room and last the kitchen on the main level. They just don’t need that big of a house anymore and Mr. Dempsey once thought about selling it because all they did was rattle around inside. Last winter he finally had me seal off the upper floor and shut off the vents so they weren’t heating rooms they weren’t using. They do have a son, but Mr. Dempsey doesn’t like to bother him because his son’s work is too important—Russell. I’ve never met the guy. Hell, I don’t even know what he looks like because all of the pictures in the house are from when the Dempseys’ two kids were babies, or maybe grade school. It’s like they never grew up.  There are three grandkids too, but the only pictures they have are from when they were babies too. It’s like they didn’t want the kids and grandkids to grow up or maybe they wanted to keep them forever young or something like that. Of course, Russellcould be there a lot more, which by my estimation is never, because nobody goes in the front door of the Dempseys, only the back because the front is locked and blocked. My steps slow as I start to cross the street and see two motorcycles parked outside of the Dempseys’ house. They aren’t just any bikers either. These guys belong to a specific chapter. One I’m all too familiar with, or was a long time ago, and as soon as I see the emblem on the back of the black leather jackets, I’m that kid again. What the hell? Is this let’s go down an ugly memory path day? First the courtroom, murder and now these particular bikers?What I don’t understand is why they are here. The Dempseys don’t have any kids and these particular bikers only help kids.The biggest one turns and I catch the tattoo on his forearm. I can’t fucking believe it.  Am I being punked? There are too many fucking coincidences happening today and if this is a joke, it is a fucking terrible one.“Tink?” I finally ask, still unable to believe I’m looking at that all-too-familiar tattoo. The biker with him gives me a side-eye, but Tink slowly turns and his brows draw together in confusion. “Do I know you?”So, not a joke, or he wouldn’t be confused. “Once upon a time you did.”There is no recognition in his eyes, but I get that. It has been twelve years. Tink was the first positive male influence in my life. He taught me how to mold clay and swing a hammer. He may have only been in my life for a short time but he left the biggest impact. I wanted to be like him when I grew up but I haven’t even come close. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you were there when I needed you.” I hold out my hand to shake his. “You and Bull. I just want to say thanks.”“Bull?” He cocks a brow and thinks back. “Over ten years ago,” he finally says. “That’s when we lost Bull in an accident.”My heart squeezes. Bull was a great guy. About half the size of Tink but I still wouldn’t want to tangle with him. “Sean Vines,” I say, just in case the name rings a bell. He’s probably helped so many kids since then that he’s not going to remember me after twelve years. His eyes widen and he starts to grin. “Damn, you’ve really grown into yourself. Told you that would happen.”I was really small for my age back then. All arms, legs, knees and elbows, shorter than everyone else in my class, which didn’t earn any points with my dad.  “I always wanted to find you one day and tell you thanks. You guys got me through the worst days of my life.” “That’s our goal, though I wish it wasn’t a need to be filled.” “Why are you here?” “Kid’s afraid his dad will find him.” Maybe he’s got the wrong place. “What kid?”“Nephew,” he answers. “He and my niece are moving in.” Then he sees my tool box and his eyebrows shoot up. “What are you doing here?”“Just need to fix the vents.” I shrug, but my mind is kind of racing to try and catch up. The Dempseys are going to have a niece and nephew with them. The niece must be the one that was in Paris because Tink’s kid wouldn’t need to move in here. So, the Dempseys’ daughter that was killed, by her husband, had a son? And, she was Tink’s sister? Then it hits me and my jaw drops. I literally feel it go. “You’re Russell?” The useless son who never comes around? Not that I say that part, of course.“Not that anybody calls me that except Mom and Dad.” He shakes his head then stops and narrows his eyes on me.  “You’rethe Sean who fixes shit?” Apparently Mr. Dempsey has told Tink about us. “I do what I can. We all do. It’s no big deal.”“Hey, thanks man.” Tink holds out his hand. “I’ve told my dad time and time again not to bug you guys but to call me when something needs fixed but he never does.” Because what you do is a hell of a lot more important than what I do and I’m just across the street anyway. Not that I know where Tink lives, but now that I know why Mr. Dempsey doesn’t like to call his son, I sure as hell don’t mind doing my bit to help out.  “It’s not that big of a deal. I am just across the street.” I glance at the other biker. “I take it that the guy is out on bail or you wouldn’t be here.”“Trial started today. They’re still picking the jury.”“Hopefully it will be over soon.” I know nothing about Tink’s nephew, but this part is almost as hard as the death and funeral. You just want to get through it and have it be over.“That son-of-a-bitch should begin his rot in prison before the week is over, hopefully. Kaden is really afraid of testifying.”Again my stomach tightens. “He was there?”He looks me in the eye. “Just like you were.”That surprises me. “You remember that?”“We remember them all.”That’s a hell of a lot to carry. It’s hard enough being one of those kids, but I can’t imagine carrying the stories of dozens, if not hundreds. For me it was twelve years ago and Tink was helping kids before me. I wonder how many he’s helped since.Do I really want to know?“You know, all this time when your parents mentioned Destiny, I never knew they were talking about your little girl.” Of course, it’s not like there is only one girl named Destiny in the world.“My little girl is seventeen, can you believe that?” He’s shaking his head again. “It’s just not right.”“In my mind she’s still a smart-mouthed five-year-old.”“Oh, she’s still smart-mouthed.” He laughs then tilts his head. “Did my dad call you to fix something while I’m fucking sitting right outside.”“Just to open vents,” I laugh. “Need help?” he asks.“I got it. You just do what you need to do.”

NOELLE
Sweat is dripping down my neck, back and between my boobs. I’m pretty sure my shirt is soaked, but there is no point in taking a shower since I’ll just sweat all over again. Instead, I open up all the windows on the third floor of the brownstone and pray for a breeze, which doesn’t come. I would have just settled on the second floor, but of the two bedrooms, only one has furniture and I don’t want Kaden on a separate floor. He doesn’t want to be that far from me either. I’m still not certain he won’t crawl into my bed tonight.This is the same floor I lived on with my mom until she met and married the asswipe who murdered her. I’ve given Kaden my old room and took my mom’s. There’s not much of her in here anymore, just the furniture, but the memories still linger of lazy Saturday mornings when I’d cuddle up between her and Dad to watch cartoons while they complained about trying to sleep.This was Mom’s room when she was a kid, with the same four-poster bed with the lavender canopy, white bedspread, and pale yellow walls. The bedspread is in the washer and I don’t want to think about how much dust is sitting on top of that canopy. If I had the energy, I’d tear it down and throw it in the wash too, but then there’d be dust everywhere that I’d have to clean up and I just don’t want to deal with it right now. I figure that as long as I don’t disturb it, the dust won’t bother me.Flopping down on the bed, I stare up, remembering how I used to feel like a princess when I got to stay in this bed, because only princesses had canopies. My parents were the king and queen and one day I’d be ruler of all of their kingdom, which happened to be the third floor of the brownstone, but it was still a kingdom to a four-year-old.Why couldn’t my parents have stayed together? That was my biggest complaint when the jerk showed up in Mom’s life, but my parents explained that they weren’t meant to be married. I refused to believe them because even after the divorce, they still got along. I don’t remember my parents ever fighting and they sat together at all my recitals, plays and soccer games, with never a negative word between them. They were friends and one time best friends, then lovers and then pregnant at seventeen. Way too young to marry, but they thought it would work. It did, until I was about five. I guess trying to go to college, work and raise a kid on a limited budget took its toll. They even lived here, with my grandparents. We had this floor, their kingdom, all to ourselves. Then one day, without warning, at least to me, the king moved, leaving the queen to rule alone.  I hated my step-dad from the moment I met him. It had been just me and Mom since I was five with weekend visitations, school breaks, and one week in the summer with Dad. As I got older I saw Dad more. When Mom married that asshole, I saw Dad a hell of a lot more. Everyone tried to tell me that my hatred for Gary was because of my age since I was in my bitchy teen years, and that I’d grow out of it. I never did. I recognized evil the moment Mom brought him home and then they married. Two years later, Kaden was born and two and a half years after that, I went off to college and only came home that first summer and then I moved to Paris.  I should have come home sooner, but it was so easy to stay.Mom made it easy for me to stay. But if I had come home, maybe she’d be alive today.She’d been keeping secrets. I just don’t know for how long. How far back did the abuse go? Did it start when I went off to college? After Kaden was born? Did Uncle Tink know?No, he couldn’t have because he would have gotten Mom and Kaden away. Mom worked him just as she worked me.My mom, dead at age 41. That age used to seem so old, but it’s not. It’s young. Too young to die and I’m going to make sure that bastard pays!Sitting up, I glance around the pale yellow room that probably hasn’t had a fresh coat of paint in twenty-five years. Cobwebs fill the corners and the windows need washed. Boxes surround me but I can’t bring myself to clean or unpack anything. I should clean before anything else, but I just don’t have that kind of energy. I feel lucky to have gotten Kaden’s bed made and mine will be set after the bedspread comes out of the dryer.It’s just too damn hot to do anything and I’m drained from the first day of the trial. Not that it’s actually started since they’re still picking a jury. God, I hope this doesn’t drag on for weeks. I need it done and over. Kaden needs it done and over.With a sigh, I push boxes to the other side of the room and stack them all on top of each other. Some are from the small apartment Kaden and I shared and hid in for six months and the others are shipments from Paris. I didn’t exactly pack much when I left because I was in a hurry and now Moira, my best friend is slowly shipping my stuff to me since I won’t be returning to my old life. “I’ll get everything opened up and they’ll have cool air soon, Mr. Dempsey.” Heavy footsteps climb the stairs. In the blink of an eye, Kaden rushes into my bedroom and hides behind me. He’s not the only one who’s afraid. My heart is pounding and I glance out the window. Uncle Tink and Frog are still there. If they let the guy pass, then he should have checked out. At least I hope. What if Tink doesn’t even know he’s here since the only way to get into the house is through the back door?The footsteps near and I hold my breath. He barely glances into the room as he heads down the hall but I recognize him immediately. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Is that the same guy who was dismissed from the jury? A lot of guys were dismissed for various reasons, but he is the only one who raised his hand when asked if a family member had been killed.  He slows and turns into the room. “I’ll get these vents open and you should have cool air soon.”“Juror 6?”He grimaces. “Only for a short time. Sean,” he says as he holds out his hand. Recognition sparks in his light brown eyes. “You were in the back of the courtroom today.”All I can do is nod, not sure if this is a good or bad coincidence.“Your uncle explained,” he says. “Noelle Dubois.” I finally say. His grip is strong, but not crushing, and heat rushes up my arm. Is it possible to feel comfort from such a simple gesture? There is such warmth in his brown eyes that I immediately feel safe.How’s that even possible? I don’t know him. I know nothing about him.“Thank you,” I finally say.He tilts his head and looks around me. I can feel my brother shift, but he doesn’t come out. Sean sinks down so that he’s balanced on the balls of his feet.“Hey, Kaden, right?” he asks.My brother leans around but stays firmly behind me.“I’m Sean.” He holds out his hand. “A friend of Tinks and I help your grandparents when they need something fixed around the house.”My brother trusts very few people. It took him days to warm up to the other bikers, and I have no idea how he’s going to react to Sean. Slowly Kaden extends his arm and shakes Sean’s hand, then yanks it back.“It’s nice to meet you,” Sean says before he stands back up and looks at me. “Will you be in the rooms on the upper floors or just this floor?”“Just this one.” “Then I won’t open the upper vents.” He smiles. “It shouldn’t take long and I’ll be out of here shortly.”“Thanks,” I say again as he heads out of my room.There is something about Sean that’s almost comforting. It’s not that he’s big, which right now I equate with safety, or that he’s cute with the soft beard and bald head. Maybe it’s his eyes…warm and comforting just like melted chocolate.What the hell? My mind must be really slipping. This is not the time to notice a handsome guy or his nice eyes. My step-dad is about to stand trial for murder of my mother and it’s going to take everything I have to get my half-brother through this.Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being alone and would give anything to have someone that is there for me, that I can curl up next to for a short time for comfort or regain some energy and strength. Selfish, I know, but I’ve been going for months, almost on empty, trying to take care of my brother. It’s not his fault and I love him and I’d never leave his care to anyone else, but sometimes, it would be nice to have someone for me. I’ve got Uncle Tink, Destiny and my grandparents, but it’s not the same. They are all dealing with the fallout of this. While we are there for each other, we are still dealing with everything personally, and we’ve also been so focused on the trial that we haven’t really been much help to each other.I am tired. Exhausted! There is no place in my life now for guys, but maybe I should make room for some chocolate. Molten lava cake, or a chocolate soufflé. Yes, that is what I really need. A few hours in the kitchen cooking and then after dinner is done, I’ll bake. Nothing releases tension better than time in the kitchen and with any luck, maybe I’ll be able to finally sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept since my plane landed six months ago.Kaden slips his hand into mine when I glance down at him.“Is it going to be over tomorrow?” I know he’s worried about testifying. Hell, not just worried, but scared to death. “If they get a jury, you’ll be the first to testify and then you won’t have to go back.” I pray they get a jury. Once Kaden testifies he’ll be able to stay at home with Grams and Gramps until the trial is over. However, I’ll be there every moment of every day to make sure Gary pays. That ass killed my mother and I won’t rest until he’s sentenced, and hopefully to life in prison. “I wish it was over,” he whispers. My heart constricts a bit. “Me too.” Though, it won’t be over for a long time. Even with my step-dad in prison, my brother is still going to need help. Help that I’m not sure I can give. If I could shield him I would. But, I can’t protect him from what he already saw.  “What if they don’t believe me and they let him go?” my brother asks. “They willbelieve you, I promise.” An eight-year-old boy should not have to be afraid like this. He should be worrying about making a baseball team or something like that. Except, my brother doesn’t like sports, other than soccer, but Gary had him on every team he could as soon as Kaden was old enough. My step-dad just couldn’t accept that his son would rather play the piano and he made Kaden’s life hell.I sink down to my knees so that I can look Kaden directly in the eye. He needs to know that he is safe and will stay that way. “Your father will go to jail. But, if for some reason he doesn’t, I am still your guardian and he can’t get you back.”“He can still find me.”“Not if I take you back to Paris with me.” Not that I’ll be returning to Paris, but I don’t tell Kaden that. My life in Paris ended when I got the call telling me that my mom had been murdered. I hopped the first plane home and found a mess bigger than I imagined. A mess I’ve inherited. A mess I can’t abandon to return to my other life. A mess my Uncle Tink and Mom shielded me from. I can’t talk to her about it, but as soon as this is over, Uncle Tink has a lot to answer for. “How about we head down and see what I can make for dinner?” I stand up. “We’ll tackle our rooms once it’s cool up here.”He just gives me a nod. Kaden says very little and it worries me. Before Mom was killed, he talked non-stop when we connected on Facetime or Skype. At least he did when Gary wasn’t home. When his dad was in the house, Kaden’s conversations were limited to a few syllables, as if he were afraid to say the wrong thing. Grams glances at me and Kaden as we come down the stairs and frowns. “Where’s Caroline?”Pain slices across Gramps features. “She’s dead, Doris,” he says. I know that Gramps has explained to Grams several times over the last six months but her brain won’t accept that her daughter is gone.Grams frowns, light eyes clouded in confusion. “No. I don’t think so.” “Remember, we lost her,” I say without reminding her of the real horror of Mom’s death.At that, Grams brightens. “Oh, well I’m sure we’ll find her soon.”It’s the same conversation we’ve had since I came home. Grams even chastised Mom at the funeral for being asleep when so many people had come to see her. That’s the first time that I realized just how far Grams had slipped. Mom used to tell me she was just having memory problems and it was to be expected at that age.She sugarcoated and made light of Gram’s condition, just like she hid a lot of things. “There you go, Mr. Dempsey.” Zach hands over the remote to my grandfather. “Just don’t hit that button and all will be good.”I don’t know what Zach is pointing to, but at least the television is working again.Grams slaps the flat of her hand on the small table by the window. “Sit!” she practically barks and picks her cards back up.I hadn’t met Zach until today, when we got here from the courthouse, but Grams seems to love him. “He has the prettiest dresses,” she told me.I’ve stopped questioning many of the things she says since most of the time it doesn’t make sense.“We’re going to fix dinner while Sean gets air up to the rooms.” I walk through the living room and then their bedroom, former dining room. Kaden curls up at the corner of the couch and pulls an afghan up around him and stares at the television. It’s not cold in here. Not even close, but my brother cocoons himself whenever possible, as if he can protect himself somehow.This kitchen is so old and has hardly any counter space, mainly because of clutter everywhere, just like the entire lower portion of the house, but Grams won’t let me straighten anything up.Crossing to the opposite wall, I open the fridge to see what is available to cook, but it’s essentially empty. There is some fruit, cheese slices, milk, butter, orange juice, cream, eggs and bacon. All of it fitting on two shelves.Inside the freezer is nothing but microwaveable meals. I’ll suffer through one tonight, if I have to, but I’m going to the grocery store the first chance I get. In the door of the freezer are three cartons of ice cream. Is this how my grandparents live and eat? If so, their daily diet is going to improve greatly now that I’m living here. There is absolutely no meat in the freezer. Not even a pound of hamburger.Had my grandparents gone vegetarian?No, they have bacon, so why no other meat?There has to be something to cook, but all the cupboards contain is cans of soup, tuna and spaghetti.I close it and look around, mentally creating a shopping list. At least they have bread. I’ll just make up some breakfast. Tomorrow, I’ll make a real dinner.Grabbing a skillet, I flip on the stove, but it doesn’t come on. It’s a gas stove, but there’s no pilot light and I quickly turn everything off and go to the doorway. “Gramps, what’s wrong with the stove?”“Doesn’t work,” he answers.“Why didn’t you get it fixed?”“Nobody knows how.”“Buy a new one.” How can anyone live with a broken stove?“Too expensive.”“I want to cook too.” Grams pushes herself out of her chair.“It’s broken, remember,” Gramps says.“Get it fixed,” she orders then sits back down.Did Mom know how bad it was here, or did this all happen since she died? Doing a slow turn I notice a microwave. Besides the toaster, it’s the only thing in here that can heat up food.Returning to the freezer I open it and groan, then shut it again. I can’t eat one of those. Not today. Not ever.Grabbing a discarded notebook, I lean against the counter and begin making a list. Not of groceries, but of all the things that need to be done around here. If I’m going to be living in this house, the stove needs to be fixed and if it can’t be, I’ll purchase a new one, along with an updated microwave. Hell, I’d love to renovate the entire kitchen but until I’m making more money, that isn’t going to happen. Ha! Making more money. I’m not making any money. Kaden has taken up all of my time since I returned and I haven’t been able to leave him long enough to look for a job, let alone work at one, but I can’t continue to live on my meager savings since it’s almost gone.

The Christmas Rattle: A Baxter Boys ~ Rattled Novel

Thirteen years they’ve waited.
Thirteen years since they were torn apart.
Dylan White’s siblings were torn from him at the age of twelve following his parents’ arrest, and it’s taken him years to track them down. Now his sister Nina is living with him and together they are doing what they can to reunite the family. But with the youngest only being seventeen, it seems like an impossibility.
Perhaps with a little twist of fate, and a bit of holiday magic, Dylan will finally get the greatest gift of all: a family for Christmas. 
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The Christmas Rattle  Copyright © 2017 by Jane Charles


1JADE
“Something’s going on.” Sophia, my foster sister, takes her seat at the dinner table. “Mom and Dad have been acting weird for almost a week now.”“It’s a busy time of year,” Adam, the oldest of my foster brothers, reminds her. “After Thanksgiving, Dad needs to get ready for Advent aShe can try all she wants but there isn’t a family out there that’s going to want to take on five teenagers who have been in the foster system most of their lives, like us. So many people want the little ones, never the teens because they assume we are bringing trouble and damage that nobody wants to deal with. 

Her Gypsy Lord

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CHAPTER ONE
Castle Keyvnor, Cornwall ~ October, 1811
Lady Charlotte Beck took a step back and glanced at the door. She could make her escape and nobody would notice. Certainly not her father, who often forgot he even had a daughter when her older brothers were in the room. The oldest, Anthony, Viscount Redgrave, lounged against a settee, a smirk upon his lips. Anthony enjoyed whenever Michael, the third born, was called on the carpet by their father. The two brothers were as different as night and day, and had been since the moment of birth. Or so she suspected since she was seven years younger than her eldest brother. Anthony had always been the perfect son. He probably hadn’t ever cried as an infant and, more than likely, slept through the night from the start. Michael, on the other hand, probably started flirting with the nursery maid when he was only an hour old. And then there was Harry, the second born, who had recently returned from the Navy. He sat upright in his chair, watching the scene with great curiosity.Or perhaps it was boredom. Harry left when Charlotte was only seven years old, and she didn’t really know him. She still was not certain if he was friend or foe.Anthony and Michael were certainly foes.  But for all of their differences, there was one topic in which they were in full agreement—any gentleman who might even glance in Charlotte’s direction was to be discouraged, then investigated. With those two always near, and glaring, it was a wonder any gentleman even bothered to sign her dance cards last season.  “Explain to me why St. Giles, Blackwater, and Ashbrook are at Castle Keyvnor,” her father, Marquess of Halesworth, demanded of Michael. The gentlemen were some of Michael’s closest friends, and it really hadn’t surprised Charlotte that the trio had traveled to Cornwall with her brother.“They were with me in Newmarket when you ordered me here.”“So you invited them?” His irate tone prompted Charlotte to edge closer to the exit. She caught Harry’s eye, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips quirked ever so slightly.“Not so much invited,” Michael hedged. “Devon Lancaster is here too, and he wasn’t invited either.”“You do realize this gathering is for the reading of a will. Not a house party!” their father roared.“I don’t even understand why it’s necessary for all of us to be present,” Michael complained. “Banfield was Mother’s uncle, surely whatever was left to her is but a token and does not require the entire family to be present.”If Father could breathe fire, it would surely be coming from his mouth and nose this very instant. At the very least, as red as his face had suddenly become, smoke should be coming from his ears.Anthony’s smile broadened, Harry came to his feet and reached for his cane, and Charlotte slipped out of the room. Father’s temper was only going to get hotter, and she preferred to be far away.A sigh escaped as she exited into the corridor, glad to be rid of her family and excited to be at Castle Keyvnor for the next sennight. Here she wouldn’t be watched nearly as closely as she had been anywhere else. Other than the four uninvited gentlemen, everyone else in attendance was some form of relation, no matter how distant. Not that she had cause to be worried about Lords St. Giles, Blackwater, Ashbrook, or Mr. Lancaster. Other than standing up with her on occasion at balls, none had ever showed her any interest, and she certainly had none in them.“One would think those two would have grown up, at least somewhat, during my absence.”A smile blossomed as Charlotte turned to find Harry behind her. Finally, someone who found Anthony and Michael as irritating and obnoxious as she did.“Tell me, do either of them ever approach anything with any respect or seriousness?” He planted his feet and put his hands behind his back--the stance of an officer used to being on the deck of a ship and ordering others about. Oh, she hoped he’d share stories of daring and danger with her one day, but they’d barely spoken since his return.“Anthony can be very serious, downright stuffy even. However, when Michael is in trouble, he quickly reverts to a child.” Harry’s frown deepened. “I’d heard Michael had a certain reputation. I’d hoped I had heard wrong.”“Oh, he does.” She laughed. “A rake of the first order. Or, at least when I’m not around. If he’s tasked with escorting me, then he becomes the most protective chaperone to ever grace London.”Harry gestured ahead and they moved further down the corridor, away from the parlor where the argument between Michael and their father was getting louder by the moment. There were times Harry leaned heavily on his cane, and at other times, like now, it was nothing more than an accessory, yet it was always with him. Charlotte hated that he was in pain but was so grateful he was home with said leg intact. From what she understood, it had been a close as to whether the surgeon would allow him to keep it. A shiver ran down her spine at the danger her brother put himself in for King and Country. She’d been too young to really understand where he went, but after Father showed her his name in the newssheets, Charlotte had saved every article where he’d been mentioned and wasn’t above bragging about him when she could. Oh, if only she could experience just an ounce of the adventure Harry had. Charlotte nearly sighed. Adventure was well and good and something she craved, though she didn’t exactly wish to put herself in danger either. Unlike Harry, who faced it head on even when the odds were against him.“You are one and twenty, correct?”“Yes and directly on a path to spinsterhood if those two have their way.”“You know, my first night back the three of us spoke—actually they spoke, and I listened—about all the things they felt I needed to understand. One of those ‘things’ was you.”Oh dear. Maybe Harry was a foe after all.“They warned me that you are much too curious for your own good, that you need to be watched, and that left to your own devices, you might go off somewhere and find yourself in all kinds of trouble.”I’m going to kill them both the first chance I have.“I feared that perhaps you were the one who hadn’t grown up and were still very much the seven-year-old that I left behind.”“Please, Harry,” she begged. “I’ve enough of our family treating me as a child.”“As well you should.” He stood back and took a good look at Charlotte. Admiration shone in his deep brown eyes. “What I see is a woman who knows her own mind, intelligent, and sensible.”Relief flowed through her. Finally, a family member who wouldn’t hover. “Why can’t you stay here and send Anthony and Michael off to the Navy?”He chuckled and shook his head. “My dear Charlotte. They’d not last a fortnight, which would result in me becoming the heir and that would never do.” Charlotte reached out and took his hands in hers. “I hope you’re home for a while and that we can spend more time together.”His smile softened. “Perhaps. We shall have to see how this leg of mine progresses.” Michael stormed out of the parlor and headed towards them.Harry pulled away from Charlotte. “Well, I’m off to explore the grounds of this supposedly haunted castle.”She intended to disappear just as quickly. That last thing Charlotte wanted to do was hear Michael complain about their father. “Do warn me if you come across any ghosts.”Harry chuckled. “You and I both know that is not likely to happen,” he called back as he headed toward the large castle door and Charlotte ducked into the sitting room. “Oh, Harry, why couldn’t you have come back sooner?” However, she was happy he was here now. If anything, it would make being with her other brothers immensely more bearable.With a grin, Charlotte twirled around in the center of the room.  The history of this gothic castle fascinated her, even if the stories were a bit embellished. She certainly believed people had been executed and witches burned, not that they were really witches of course. Gruesome events had transpired all throughout history, so it wasn’t surprising that some horrific things happened here. But, what was truly entertaining was that people actually believed there were still ghosts, fairies, and witches about. And, even better, apparently a band of gypsies actually lived on Banfield land.  There was so much to explore, and she couldn’t wait. But first, she must know where to find the gypsies. She could have asked Harry to keep an eye out for them while he was exploring, but she wanted to keep his good opinion of her and not make him question if Anthony and Michael were correct and that she lacked sensibilities.Not that she believed in curses or fortune telling or any of that nonsense, but it would be delightfully fun to have her fortune told just the same. Would they use a crystal ball? Cards? Read the lines on her hands? “Why in the world is Lord St. Giles here?”  Lady Cassandra Priske, her cousin, entered the room and dropped onto a settee across from Charlotte. Oscar, her cousin’s bothersome black poodle, hopped up beside his owner. Had she known Cassy was bringing Oscar, Charlotte might have brought Princess, her black cat, who thoroughly enjoyed chasing the yappy dog.“Michael said he invited himself. No idea why he’d want to be here if he didn’t have to be.” However, she couldn’t complain of his presence or that of any of Michael’s friends since they would keep her brother occupied. It was a shame Anthony hadn’t brought a friend as well, then she’d have all the freedom she needed. A breeze swept through the room and goose pimples popped out on Charlotte’s arms just as Oscar barked and stood at attention. She may adore old castles, but they could be downright chilly at times.“Heavens!” Cassy exclaimed. One would have thought Princess just sauntered into the room by the way that dog was behaving. “What’s wrong with Oscar?” Cassy blinked at her cousin. “Didn’t you feel that?” Charlotte frowned slightly. “Feel what?” “Like a breeze or a wind blow through the sitting room?” Charlotte shook her head. “It’s an old castle. All the rooms are drafty.” Oscar barked again, much to Charlotte’s irritation. If she could figure out a way to muzzle that dog, she would. “Ahem!” Someone cleared her throat in the threshold and Charlotte glanced up to find the stern housekeeper frowning at them. “We do nothave animals on the furniture at Castle Keyvnor.”“Oh!” Cassy snatched Oscar up in her arms and he nestled against her chest. “Sorry, Mrs. Bray,” Charlotte said. “We didn’t know.” The woman narrowed her eyes on Cassy. “Well, now you do.” Now was not the time to upset the housekeeper since there was still so much Charlotte needed to learn. She pushed out of her seat and gave the woman what she hoped was a kind and apologetic smile. “Um, Mrs. Bray, I wonder if you could answer a question for me.” “Yes, Lady Charlotte?” she asked with suspicion. “Well, I heard tale that there were gypsies on Keyvnor land. Is there any truth to that?”“The Earls of Banfield have always welcomed their lot,” Mrs. Bray replied. “They have a camp near Hollybrook Park.”“That is delightful.” Charlotte grinned at the news. “You best not be disturbing them,” Mrs. Bray warned. “We stay away from them, and they stay away from us, even if his lordship welcomed them.” “Yes, of course.” Charlotte schooled her features. “I was simply curious. I would never dream of visiting gypsies.”The older woman shrugged and then departed as Charlotte fell back onto the settee. “I can’t wait to have my fortune told.”“I think you’ve lost your mind.” Cassy shook her head, and that nasty little dog barked. As much as she wanted to go, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if she were alone; and with that thought, Charlotte slid forward in her seat.  “It’ll be a grand adventure, Cassy, just think! A band of marauding gypsies telling tales by the fire. It’s just a lark, of course. Something to pass the time while we’re here.” “It sounds perfectly horrid.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You are too stuffy by half, did you know?” She should have known Cassy wouldn’t go with her. After all, her cousin never did anything daring. “You think I’m stuffy? I can’t wait to hear you tell Anthony, Harry, and Michael that you mean to visit a band of gypsies.” She wouldn’t tell them, would she? Cassy and she may not enjoy the same pastimes, but they’d always held each other’s confidences. “You can’t tell them!” Charlotte insisted. “They’ll ruin any bit of enjoyment there is to be had here.” “We’re here for the reading of a will, not enjoyment.” She sounded like Papa. “You can find enjoyment anywhere,” Charlotte claimed. “Or at least you can if your overbearing brothers don’t know what you’re about.” Even though Harry didn’t appear to be overbearing, she wasn’t about to chance this either. “You must promise me not to tell them.”“I’m not going to tell them,” Cassy vowed. “But I don’t think you should visit the gypsies. It could be dangerous, and I have an awful feeling about Keyvnor. Don’t you feel it too?”Where Charlotte craved adventure, Cassy’s imagination was as adventurous as she got. “I think your imagination is running wild again.”Oscar barked, hopped off Cassy’s lap and bolted towards the doorway. Charlotte glanced up, hoping Mrs. Bray hadn’t returned, but found Lord St. Giles leaning against the doorjamb instead. Dear Lord, she hoped Michael wasn’t nearby. He’d ruin everything.The poodle sat before the baron and panted up at him as though waiting for a treat. Nasty little beggar. Then, St. Giles winked at Cassy, completely taking Charlotte by surprise, before he gave a small bite of something to the dog.  Had St. Giles taken an interest in her cousin? Charlotte wasn’t sure if she should warn him away or be delighted and watch how the situation progressed. St. Giles did have a certain reputation, not much better or worse than Michael’s, and they both left broken hearts in their wake. “What did you give him?” Cassy pushed off the settee. “Charmed a scullery maid for a bit of pheasant.” Charlotte nearly snorted. Charm should be St Giles’s middle name, and the same could be said of Michael. “Are you attempting to bribe my dog?” Cassy demanded.“Bribe? What an ugly word.” St. Giles gave her cousin an unrepentant grin. “Simply making a new friend. You can never have too many, after all.” Then he glanced towards Charlotte. “And your secret is safe with me, my dear. None of your brothers will hear of your expedition into gypsy territory from my lips.”  Blast, he had heard and her face heated with embarrassment. “Lord St. Giles,” she greeted him.The baron stepped further into the sitting room. “I am a firm believer in having a bit of fun every now and then, so I certainly wouldn’t stand in the way of you having yours.” Perhaps St. Giles had more substance than she’d given him credit for. Just because he was a good friend of Michael’s didn’t mean there wasn’t some worth to him. Besides, she could do far worse in having someone to take her side should her brothers learn of her plans. As he said, you could never have too many friends. She just never thought to consider him as such. “Thank you.” ***“You sent for me, Puri daj?” Adam Vail asked his grandmother as he stepped into the gypsy camp. “It’s going to rain,” she announced. Her back was permanently hunched from age and years of bending over palms and telling fortunes. Her once black hair was more grey and white, though she tried to smooth her frazzled mane back into a knot behind her head. “You summoned me to tell me it’s going to rain?” She was getting on in years, ancient even, though Adam could only guess at her age.  Grandmother had never summoned him for something as trivial as the weather.“You’ll be needed.”He glanced around. The brightly painted wagons were pulled into a half circle and the small cottages along the tree line were lit from within, except for one. It belonged to his grandmother. Adam had had it built, but she refused to live in something so permanent. This was where the gypsies, his mother’s family, would spend their winter. It had been this way since his father married Lela Boswell, daughter of the woman who had sent for him.A large fire burned at the center of the camp, and many of his relatives moved about preparing food and settling in. They’d only arrived a few days earlier, and he was glad they were once again where they belonged. Or at least near where they belonged.“Exactly how will I be needed?” he asked.“You shall see.” His grandmother was often cryptic, and many times it irritated him to no end. But Adam still did as she asked. He glanced to the sky. It had been overcast all day, but not a drop of rain had fallen. He wasn’t about to argue with his grandmother, however. If she said it was going to rain, then it was going to rain and he’d be needed here. He’d long ago stopped questioning her premonitions because she was never wrong. The gift of second sight, his mother had claimed. One he had not inherited.“What are you working on?” His grandmother sifted through beads, feathers, shells and gems. Selecting some, discarding others, and pushing the ones she approved into a small leather pouch. “Making a talisman.”“Why?”“A young lady will need it to protect her at Castle Keyvnor.” His grandmother sighed. “The vision is not yet clear. I’ll know more when we meet.” She dropped a feather into the putsi. “Just because Banfield allowed you to live on his land does not mean you can go about handing out talismans to the castle’s guests.” Several of Banfield’s relatives had recently arrived to attend the reading of the late earl’s will. Adam couldn’t remember the last time so many had been at the castle at one time, if ever. “She will come to me,” his grandmother insisted, not bothering to look at Adam as she continued sifting through charms. “You know we never venture inside the walls, and I don’t like it when you do either.”Though how a putsi could protect anyone from anything was beyond Adam, yet he was never without his, the one Grandmother and his mother had made upon his birth. Too often she was correct about the unexplained, and at a young age, he learned to trust in her counsel when it often had no meaning and was beyond his understanding. There were simply things in the world, and particularly at Castle Keyvnor and in this corner of Cornwall, that could not be explained away with reason. If his grandmother believed that evil dwelled within the walls, Adam believed her. Not that he’d experienced anything evil on his visits, but the place was certainly haunted.   “Aren’t you concerned that once the will is read you’ll be without a winter home?” The Earl of Banfield was now dead, and Adam knew nothing about the heir.“There is no reason to worry about things that cannot be changed.” This was often his grandmother’s approach about anything. But in his twenty-seven years, she’d also not had to worry about where her family would spend the winter.“What if he has you removed?” She finally glanced up at him, her dark eyes clouded with age. “Dear boy, all things will be as they should be, as it always is.” His grandmother patted his hand. If things were as they were supposed to be, his gypsy relatives would be living at Hollybrook Park, but his cantankerous grandfather refused to allow them safe harbor. His mother’s people should be on his father’s land, not just on the other side of the border, living off the generosity of a neighbor. “You have not shaved,” she nodded in approval.“As is custom.” Adam hadn’t followed all the Gypsy customs upon the death of his older brother, but he’d not taken a razor to his face and would not until after Thomas was placed in the ground. On second thought, he might not shave until next spring, when he returned to London, only to further irritate his grandfather.“You will wear white!” “I will wear black,” Adam corrected. There would be mourners at the cemetery, and they might believe he’d lost his mind.“Red handkerchief and waistcoat,” she proclaimed.Mourners were to wear white for purity or red for vitality. As there was nothing even remotely pure when it came to Thomas, or Adam for that matter, he’d wear red.“Your stepmother, sisters, and brother? Have they returned?”His stepmother had taken her children, four daughters and a son, from Hollybrook Park as soon as Thomas returned home. She feared them becoming infected somehow. That was nearly two years ago and he hadn’t seen them since. “No.” If something happened to his grandfather, his five younger half-siblings would become his responsibility. Adam’s stomach churned at the very thought, though they apparently were doing well without him or their grandfather. Grandmother pursed her lips in disapproval and shook her head. “You asked for forgiveness?”“Yes, Puri daj, as you instructed.” Not that his older brother had been in a state of mind to accept any apologies, and Adam had been hard pressed to find something he was sorry for. It was his brother who should have been seeking compassion, but his mind was already gone.She nodded. “It is good. You will make a better viscount.”“I never wanted to be a viscount.” His life was simpler before Thomas became ill. Hopefully his grandfather was too stubborn to die, and Adam wouldn’t have to assume the title, or responsibility to the estate, town and smugglers for many, many years.
“A man like Thomas did not deserve to be viscount.” Her dark eyes looked into Adam’s. “He was one of them.” She practically spit out the word. “You, my dear boy, are one of us. A Rom.”If anyone else referred to him as a dear boy, Adam would take issue. But, this was his grandmother.
And, he was Rom. It was in his bones. He much preferred the life of a gypsy, though that wasn’t his lot in life. He was destined to be the next Viscount Lynwood.

Shake, Rattle & Roll

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1
CHRISTIAN
 “Seriously? Feel Your Balls?” I read the sign above one of the booths at the health fair. The booth next to it has a sign Feel Your Boobs?“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Mary Robins grins at me.“Can we go feel boobs and balls?” Zach asks.“Only after you give blood,” Mary assures Zack the same way a mom would promise ice cream after booster shots. At least that’s what a few of my foster moms were like. The good ones, when I was still a little kid. “Right over there.” Mary points to a huge white tent. Inside are recliners and about half of them are filled with people giving blood. “They have cakes, cookies and juice for when you’re done,” she continues in a cajoling voice as she herds the guys toward the tent.I watch as my roommates slink off, shoulders slouched and heads hanging. Really, the needle isn’t that big and they only take a bag of blood. It’s really no big deal.Mary comes back to me, fists on her hips and stares me down.“Can’t.” I hold up my hands and step back. “I’m a regular giver,” I remind her.  “It’s not my time yet.” And, they never let me forget either. With A negative blood, they love to get their needle in me to fill a bag and usually call to schedule an appointment two weeks before I’m due.“Maybe you should be on Alex watch.”I laugh. I wasn’t there, but last time Alex gave blood he passed out. “Kelsey’s with him. He won’t wimp out in front of her.”“It’s not wimping out to get light headed.”“He’s a fucking tattoo artist, and needles and blood make him squeamish. Explain that.”She rolls her eyes. “Totally different kinds of needles and a hell of a lot more blood.”We are right in the middle of the campus where on normal days students just hang out between classes, but today it’s filled with all things health fair related. I didn’t know what to expect, but not all of this. In one corner is a fenced off area, kind of like you’d see in a petting zoo, but it’s filled with little kids and playground equipment. Adults are in there watching too. The kids are running, screaming, playing and crying. Right next to it is a booth with the sign Are You Ready for This? With an arrow pointed to the playground. “Birth control booth?” “Whenever possible, it’s best to demonstrate. A crying baby is a lot more effective than a pamphlet sometimes.” Mary laughs.“So, what are you demonstrating?” Mary needs to be at a booth in a few minutes for her volunteer work.“The proper use of a condom.”“Um, isn’t that a given?”“You’d be surprised at how many guys were never taught the proper technique of rolling one on and leaving a reserve.”“Seriously?”“Sad, I know.”“It’s just as important for girls to know too,” I point out. Except a girl hasn’t been around my dick in, well, too damn long. I’m not even sure the condoms I own haven’t expired. It’s not that I don’t have the opportunity to get laid, like every weekend, but that got old real quick. Something about being in a band makes girls wet. I know this because they’ve told me. And, it was fun for a while but damn, I want more than a quick fuck in the back room of a bar.  “So, you’re at the booth next to the kids.”“No, they are just handing out information about the clinic, services that are offered, a map of the health fair. More of an information booth.”I nod and do a full turn. There are a ton of booths and tents. I can’t even see everything they have, and the place is packed. They are mostly students, but it’s a huge turnout. I’m not sure I went to one health fair when I was in college. They seemed so lame and I didn’t really think I needed to learn anything new. Damn, if I knew they were like this, I probably would have stopped in.“I’m next to the balls. Condoms and balls kind of go hand in hand, don’t you think?” She wags her eyebrows at me.“If you’re doing it right.” I laugh as we start walking in that direction.  Mary slips behind the table, relieving the girl who was standing there. Roll it Right reads the sign above her head and another sign on the table says One Break Can Last a Lifetime and Free for the taking, in front of tubs filled with condoms. Guys are grabbing up handfuls as they come by.Two guys stop and look at Mary.She tilts her head, giving them a saucy grin. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”One of them looks at his friend, then nods. “Maybe you should show me, just so I know I’m doing it right.“I’d love too.” What the hell? What kind of health fair is this? I glance back to make sure Dylan, my roommate and her boyfriend, is still in the tent. Did Dylan know what she was going to be doing? The guy leans on the table, getting closer to Mary. “Should we go somewhere, um, more private?”She grabs a condom out of the tub. “I’m more of an exhibitionist.” She dismisses him as if the idea of putting on a condom in front of everyone is no big deal, then reaches under the table and brings out a neon green dildo on a stick.“Oh, man,” the guy says with disappointment and I about lose it because I’m laughing so hard. She so played him. Though, if Mary is going to spend her afternoon showing guys how to use condoms, even if it is on a dildo, I may have to make sure Dylan is occupied elsewhere. He sure as hell is not going to like witnessing what I just did. Not that Mary did anything wrong. Hell, she didn’t even flirt or lead the guy on, but a girl offering to help with a condom is enough to get a guy thinking about what happens after the condom is on and that guy was definitely jumping ahead to wearing the condom and being with Mary. I glance at the next booth and forget to breathe. It’s the girl who was coming out of the campus clinic with Mary a few months back. I never got her name. I introduced myself and all she said was “I know. You play sax, right?” Then she was gone. I’ve wanted to ask Mary about her, but I don’t want Mary to start trying to fix me up with people either. Girls do that when they are in love. Kelsey worked on getting Dylan and Mary together and I have no doubt Mary would do the same to me and the auburn-haired beauty with light blue eyes if she had any idea how interested I am.She’s standing right beneath the Feel Your Balls sign and now that’s all I can think about. Her hands on my balls, stroking my shaft and maybe using that gorgeous mouth in the most pleasurable of ways.A slow smile comes to her face as I approach, as if she can read my mind. Hell, of course she can. You don’t put a sexy girl under a sign like that and not expect guys to immediately think of feeling and tasting.“Are you the one doing the feeling?”“Maybe.” She leans on the table, hands flat against the surface, her upper arms pressing her tits together, making the cleavage deep.  Damn!“I hear that guys like it when someone is feeling their balls.”I lean in. “If you want to feel mine, I have no objection.” Even though I know she is working me, like Mary worked the guy on proper condom use, I’m happy to play along. Except, I’m not getting what this booth is about. How can feeling a guy’s balls be health related? Unless it’s to warn against blue balls. Which if this flirtation keeps up, I may have a serious case of.“You probably don’t spend much time with your balls,” she says. “Most guys, when taking themselves in hand, just jack off in the shower and give no attention to the family jewels.”Well, that’s true. If it’s bad enough that I have to take care if it myself, ball attention isn’t necessary.“Did you know that could also be deadly?” Her voice is low and those blue eyes are boring into mine.“Why? I could slip on a bar of soap.”“I’m serious.”“So am I. I don’t want to die in the shower.” I lean in closer. Our noses are practically touching. She’s turning me on like no woman ever has and we aren’t even touching. “Maybe you should shower with me, for protection.”“Give me your hand.” I’m about to break out in a sweat. She can have my hand. She can have anything she wants.I expect her hand to go into mine, but she places something soft and light in the palm. I glance down and it takes a moment before I realize what I’m holding and then drop it immediately.“I hope you don’t treat your own balls so poorly.”“What is that?” Well, it looks like a sack, balls, and scrotum, whatever, and the poor dick is even cut off.“Guess you don’t look at yours too often either.” She snorts.
BETHANY
Holy crap! I’m flirting with Christian Sucato and we are talking about balls, feeling balls, and all I can think about are his balls and his cock and those light brown eyes. This isn’t the first time I’ve given demonstrations, but I normally don’t flirt. It’s not professional and we aren’t supposed to. This booth is for information that could save a life, but when Christian walked up, it was almost as if I couldn’t help myself.“Why did you just put balls in my hand?”I try not to laugh but it is so freaking funny that practically every guy drops them as if the testicular exam simulator has cooties or something.“To save your life,” I answer.Damn, I’ve gotten more requests today to perform personal exams than I can count. If Christian were to ask, I’m not so sure I’d really want to tell him no. I’ve had a thing for him for a good year. Ever since I saw his band play at a club one night. There’s just something about him and the way he plays that sax that is so fucking hot. Hotter than anyone I’ve encountered, not that I ever did anything about it. I’m pretty sure he has a fan base full of pretty girls who are all willing to feel his balls and anything else and I’m not a groupie. It’s not my thing. I’d just rather admire from afar, and it’s no different than seeing a hot guy in a movie. Nice to think about but knowing you’ll never actually get him. Out of reach, that is what Christian Sucato has been to me and after this display is done, at least I’ll have this encounter to remember. He probably has more girls come on to him than he can keep up with and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me a few months back when I was with Mary. That unexpected meeting left me tongue tied and I got the hell out of there before I made a fool of myself by drooling or throwing my number at him. This time, I did my best to prepare when I saw him. Equally hoping he wouldn’t come over and hoping he would. The point of this fair is to entice people to take their health seriously, even if it means luring them in to a booth with sexual innuendos. After all, sex sells and if that is what it takes to save a life, I’m not above it.“Exactly how is playing with fake balls going to save my life?”“Did you know that about 50% of all males who develop testicular cancer are between twenty to thirty-four years old?”He pulls back in surprise. “No, actually.”Even though I hate getting clinical, sometimes we need to and this topic is important to me. More than the others, except maybe drug addiction and depression. Hell, all of them are important and it’s why I took on the health fair this year. It needed to be more than general topics, generic information and pamphlets. It needed to be fun to draw the students in and hopefully, it might save some lives, which is why no topic was ignored and they are being presented in a manner that won’t bore the student body.“How old are you?” I ask.“Twenty-four. How old are you?”“Old enough to know that I need to check my body for lumps.” He tilts his head and frowns. “That’s not really an answer.”“Twenty-two,” I finally answer, not that my age matters where his balls are concerned.“Testicular cancer is rare though, right? I mean, not like breast and lung cancer.”“Almost 6 men in every 100,000 will be diagnosed, but wouldn’t it suck to be one of those six and you die because you are too squeamish to feel around your balls?”“I’m not squeamish,” he defends, though his cheeks start to turn a little pink.“Look, nobody thinks twice about women doing breasts exams, touching their boobs and feeling for lumps, but ask a guy to do the same to his balls and they get all weird, so tell me, why?”Christian shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about.” Then he narrows his eyes on me. “How would I even know what to look for?”I grin and pick up the exam stimulator. I feel around until I locate the lump then place it in his hands. “Now, with the tips of your fingers, press and feel your way around and become familiar with what is normal and what isn’t.”At first he balances it in his hand and then does as I ask. His eyes go wide. “This almost feels like the real thing.”“I thought you said you don’t play with your balls.”His face gets even brighter. “Well, there have been moments,” he grudgingly admits. “Like when I was a kid and had only myself.”“To play with,” I tease.Just because this is a serious topic doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. Besides, I’ve found most guys are more comfortable learning when humor is involved.At least he is taking this seriously, unlike some of the guys who came by and got wigged out. So far today, it’s been about 60% who really wanted to learn something and 40% who were too immature to understand the seriousness of the disease and how easy it is to check for. I don’t get it, not really. It’s nothing for a girl to feel around her boobs when she’s washing them in the shower so why can’t guys take a few extra minutes when washing their balls. At least, I hope they’re washing them.I watch as Christian presses over the spot where I know the lump is and goes on. Then he stops and goes back. “Is this it?”“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” He grins at me and sets the simulator down. “What’s my prize?”“You get to start playing with your balls in the shower for a reason instead of just pleasure.”He presses his palms on the table and leans in close. “I still think it would be more thorough, and pleasurable if you were doing the examining.”So do I, but I need to remain professional. “You and the twenty guys who were here before you.” Then I pull back. “Sorry, I’m only here for demonstration, not actual hands-on.”“So, that’s all I do?” He asks. “Press my fingers around my balls and see if there is a lump?”“Yes and no. First, the best time to examine yourself if after a bath or shower because the skin is relaxed. Hold your penis out of the way, then hold your testicle between your thumbs and fingers and roll it gently between your fingers, feeling for lumps like you felt on the simulator, or any type of mass or something that might not feel like it belongs.” “Hey, Bethany, sorry I’m late.”Carina, who was supposed to man this booth starting an hour ago steps behind the table. “Matt worked over and I didn’t have a sitter to fill in until he got home.”Matt is her husband, a police officer with the NYPD and they have a nine-month-old son. “That’s okay. I had this.”She glances up at Christian then recognition lights in her eyes. Carina was with me the night we saw his band play. Carina also knows that I kind of really crushed on him that night. I hope to hell she doesn’t say anything.“So, if you don’t need me, I think I’ll do a check.”“Go ahead.” She’s grinning, but at least she’s keeping her mouth shut.“What do you need to check?” Christian asks as I come around the table.“This, all of it.” I spread my arms about indicting the entire health fair. “It’s my baby this year and I need to make sure all is going well and that nobody needs anything.”While it would be nice to spend more time with Christian, I do have a job to do and I’m sure he wants to go find his friends because I’m pretty sure he didn’t come with just Mary since she’s dating Dylan.“Mind if I tag along?”No words could surprise or thrill me more. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I’m in the mood to learn something.”

All Horns & Rattles: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

Amazon

ALL HORNS and RATTLES
Twelve years since Nina White’s family was ripped apart.Twelve years since she’s seen her siblings. Twelve years she’s had to fight for everything, including her own life and her freedom.  
Tex has known Nina since she was a smart-mouthed, tough teen working with him at Miguel’s Gym. Tex knows nothing of Nina’s past, and he’s never had to fight for anything, until he decides he wants Nina, scars and all.
Nina has had it bad for Tex, not that she’d ever tell him. His sweet smile and a heart the size of Texas are way too good for her. If he ever learned about the ugliness of her past, he’d go back to his perfect family and his perfect home and his perfect life. What sane man wouldn’t? 
Tex insists that she try to find her family.Tex insists that she lower the walls surrounding her heart.Tex insists that she love him back.
One kiss sends her world spinning out of control. The past has a way of catching up with you, and the future she never dreamed of is within her grasp.  Will it be fleeting? Or can she make it hers? 
***New Adult novel intended for audiences over the age of 18 due to adult language and sexual content**

* * *
 1 NINA


 “You’re eighteen today, Nina.” Mrs. Graft yells into my room. “State won’t pay for you anymore so you’ve gotta go.”I knew this day would come, but are they really kicking me out this early? It’s like seven in the morning.On New Year’s Day!“Can I get a shower and food first?” She steps into the bedroom I share with three other girls and scowls at me. “Make it quick. No point in dragging out the inevitable.”“Thank you.” I push back the covers on my lower bunk and get out of the bed, careful not to bump my head, which I’ve done more times than I can count. “Do you really have to go, Nina?” Ellie, the six-year-old who is on the top bunk asks, tears in her deep brown eyes.“I’m eighteen. Those are the rules.”A tear leaks out of the corner of her eye as she holds out her scrawny arms to me.I lean in and hug her. She’s such a sweet little girl and has only been with us about six months.“I’m going to miss you,” she whispers into my hair.“I’ll miss you too, but remember what I told you.” I pull back and look into her eyes. “Take care of yourself, be strong, and don’t ever be afraid to tell your caseworker, policeman, firefighter or teacher if someone is being mean to you.” She’d been physically abused, but like so many children in her situation, had been too afraid to say anything. It wasn’t until a trip to the emergency room after a teacher noticed she was in pain and couldn’t reach a parent that Ellie finally spoke up. She was taken from her home and put into the system. She misses her mom and dad, and despite all the physical pain they inflicted on her, they are still her parents.I remember all too well feeling lost and scared when I’d been taken from my family. Except I didn’t miss my parents. I missed my older brothers and younger sister. I especially remember asking why I couldn’t be with Dylan. He was the oldest and was the one who tried to take care of us. “I promise,” she says.I wish I could keep her and make a place for just her and me so she didn’t have to go through what I did, but no social worker is going to allow me to raise a kid. I can barely afford to take care of myself.“Go back to sleep,” I whisper and tuck her into bed, along with the stained and battered rag doll she keeps close.I grab my toiletry bag and hurry off to the bathroom as I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s not that I love it here, but it’s a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Once I walk out that door, I’ll be on my own.At least I have a part-time job. Make that two part-time jobs. Not that they pay enough, combined, to rent any kind of apartment, but at least I’ll get to keep my paychecks instead of handing them over to Mrs. Graft. She takes money from all the foster kids in the house. Her rule is that as soon as we are old enough we have to get a job to help out financially. She claims the state doesn’t pay her enough to house, feed and clothe us. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I never asked my caseworker about it because my paycheck is a small price to pay to live in a house where I’m not bothered or scared, and the others are basically decent people. If I would have snitched on Mrs. Graft, I may have been pulled from here and put somewhere else. I wasn’t about to risk ending up someplace worse than this. I’ve been to worse and didn’t want to go back.Plus, I have half of my tips from the past two years. As soon as Mrs. Graft asked for my paycheck, I told her that I had to turn in all my tips so taxes could be taken out. Which is partially true if a customer paid with a card. However, any cash left for me, I got to keep, after sharing it with the cook. I bus my own tables since it’s only a diner, so I don’t have to share with a lot of people like at larger restaurants. I’ve saved what I could, hiding it, because I knew this day would come. Eighteen and out and I’ve saved $1,506.47. It’s not much, but it’s a start for the first day of being an adult.Truthfully, I’ve been on my own since I was six. Just like Ellie, and it’s just the beginning for her.Twelve years, and even though I’ve been in about half a dozen foster homes, I’ve been alone. This one might be the hardest to leave. Not because the Grafts are exactly loving, because truthfully they are in in for the money, but I’ve been here for two years and I like the other kids. And, I’ll worry about Ellie. But, there is nothing I can do for her and I know as well as anyone that a kid’s hands are tied. We just need to roll with the rules, and the punches, and protect ourselves as best as we can.At least I had the forethought to push through school and get all the necessary credits so I could graduate early. There was no way in hell I was going to try and finish out my senior year while living on the streets. Just eight months to survive and then I’ll be in a dorm. I hope. I’m still waiting to hear back if I’ve been accepted to any colleges. December graduates go quietly. We take our last test and walk out the door for good. But, I will walk with the rest of my class in May. I busted my ass for good grades and I want the pomp and circumstance, and the cap, gown and diploma.Shit! The cap and gown. I ordered and paid for it, but it won’t arrive at the school for a few months.  Once I get a place, I’m going to have to let my counselor know where I am. If I don’t have a place, I’ll ask Miguel about using the gym’s address for mail and stuff. I work there part-time and practically live there anyway when I’m not at my other job or when I wasn’t at school.My suitcase is waiting by the front door when I finish my eggs and toast. It’s old and battered, but it’s mine. I found it beside a dumpster when I was eight and took it back to my foster home and cleaned it up. It’s much better than a garbage sack. That’s what most foster kids put their stuff in and I hated it. When it’s time to leave and go to a new home, the old parents just toss your clothes and toys, if you are lucky enough to have any, into a big plastic bag and send you out the door, just like the garbage. I’ve had this suitcase for ten years, and it’s my home. Not that I sleep in it, but anything that is important to me stays in that suitcase.Mrs. Graft hands me an envelope. “It’s got your immunization record, school transcripts and anything else you need.”My life in one large manila envelope.Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I shove the envelope inside and lift my suitcase. “Thanks for everything.”Five kids from ages six to seventeen are standing on the other side of the room watching me. Ellie is holding onto the hand of Darius. He’s seventeen and will be the next to go, but Darius will watch out for Ellie until then. He’s a good guy who has learned to keep his head low, quiet and just get through.This is their future, they know it. Just like I knew it when I was the one watching another eighteen-year-old leave. Except, the others usually had a social worker come by. That’s not an option for me. It’s a holiday and the one I’ve been assigned is out of the office for a few months.I step outside and take a deep breath as the door closes behind me. Ten a.m. on the first day of the year. Nothing but the future ahead of me.
TEX
It sure is a beautiful sunrise. I only wish I wasn’t watching it alone. My family is asleep in the big old farmhouse I grew up in, and my friends, who I was once really tight with, are likely hung over and have a long, painful day ahead of them.We had a great time last night, but it wasn’t the same as in the past. We’ve grown apart, which I suppose is normal, but it has me questioning a lot of things. Like my future.The wide open plains of Texas are spread out before me and go on forever. There’s a nip in the air and it’s just cold enough that I can see my breath in the early morning dawn. To Texans, this is cold, only a few degrees below freezing. To me, after living in New York for the past couple of years, this is just chilly.The fields and the cattle before me are the scenery I grew up with and thought I’d come home to. Except, I’m not so sure Texas is really my home anymore. Going to college in New York was my way of seeing the world. Stupid young kid going off to the big city two and a half years ago. I was going to be a boxer. The best.I’m not a boxer and no matter how much Miguel tries to teach me, I’ll never be great.At least I went after my dream. That’s all anyone can do and I won’t be suffering from the what ifs when I’m old.But, what now? I graduate in a year and a half and need to decide if I stay there or come back home. I’m working on a degree in Sports and Fitness Administration so I could be a fitness director, athletic trainer and run a gym. I like sports and the physical and have always been athletic. I’m just not good enough to ever be professional. Out of all the sports I played in high school, and I played them all, boxing was the one thing I loved, and I didn’t learn that at school but at a community center that has long since shut down. Maybe I can come back and reopen it. Give the kids a place to go since there isn’t much to do in this tiny town. It doesn’t even need traffic lights. Hell, if you stick to the back roads, you can drive from one end of the county to the other and only run into a handful of stop signs. I don’t want to come back here to nothing and do nothing. What I want is to stay in New York and keep working at Miguel’s. Miguel’s gym was the first place I headed after unpacking in my dorm room. Mom and Dad said I could pursue my dream of boxing, and encouraged it, as long as I got a degree in something. They didn’t really care what as long as I got a piece of paper with a bachelor’s degree on. They knew I had to get the boxing bug out of me before I could move on.Well, the boxing bug isn’t gone, it’s just been refocused. I’ve learned a lot from Miguel and the other guys at his gym, but if I do anything with boxing, it will be training, not fighting, and I’ve come to accept that. I don’t know what I’d do without that old man. Miguel is like my father in New York. I have a great mom and dad here too, but Miguel kept my head on straight when I could have made some poor ass decisions. I was so unprepared for everything New York City had to offer. It’s not like I hadn’t been to big cities before, but I was basically raised in the country, on a ranch, not far from a town that can boast a population of like three thousand, on a good day. Worse, I think I may be related to half of the residents one way or another. I just had to get out of here. I didn’t want to live in Texas for my entire life even if I do love the land. I needed more. Wanted more. My roots are here, in the desert, cattle, horses and oil. My heart is in New York.Except, she will be leaving in the fall. Not that Nina has any clue she’s the reason I don’t want to come back to Texas. I don’t even know when it all happened and when she became so important to me.Heck, when I stepped into Miguel’s for the first time, she was just a kid, smart-mouthed, tough, and armored up like an armadillo, contrary and so fucking brave that she’d charge into hell with a bucket of ice water. All horns and rattles, that one. The slightest thing could get her riled up and she’d go off on the person, which is why I started calling her Horns. It used to be just me but more and more people started calling her that, and not really knowing why. The last time I ordered team jerseys I even had Horns put on the back of her jersey, instead of her last name, just to be ornery.She’s not so much that way anymore. She’s still armored up, but she’s softened. Not that she’s all warm and fuzzy, never that. But I’ve seen some glimpses beneath her tough exterior, more and more over time, and as much as Horns will deny it, she’s got a really soft heart.Eighteen today in fact. And she’s not like any of the girls I’ve ever known, which became painfully clear after hanging with my friends these past couple of days, and I had to face what my gut already recognized. Nina may be just eighteen, but she’s got a world of maturity and common sense above the girls who are my age and whom I’ve known since we were all dragging our diapers on the ground. I’ve always admired Nina but she’s no longer just another girl at the gym. She’s my friend and I’ve fallen hard for her. I didn’t even see it coming until it was there. And, she has no fucking clue about how I feel and I have no idea what to do about it. I’d ask Miguel because I ask him everything, but I can’t talk to him about Nina. She’s like a granddaughter to him, put up on a pedestal to be seen and not touched. If the old man had any clue what I was thinking or wanting, he’d kick my sorry ass out of the gym and lock the door behind me.But damn, she’s prettier than the sunrise, with her light brown hair and light grey eyes, pert nose and the most kissable lips God has ever created.Lips I haven’t kissed. Lips I don’t dare kiss. Lips I can only dream about, like the rest of her. Slim, strong and toned with legs that any man would love to have wrapped around him. Not that I’ve really seen all of her legs because she only wears shorts that come down to her knees, but I sure as hell can imagine.       And, they’ll never be wrapped around me. She’s my friend and I love her, but if I cross that line and let her know how I feel, I will lose her, and having a part of Nina is better than not having her at all.