Jen Frederick's Blog, page 20

Thank you for participating in the cover reveal for Unraveled

Graphic via LM Creations.  Thank you to everyone who participated in the Unraveled cover reveal tour. I so appreciate you spreading the word about my book. The following is a little excerpt from Unraveled.

Chapter One

Gray

“You sure I can’t give you a ride, Sgt. Phillips?” the sixty-year-old woman I’d sat next to on the airplane asked for the fifth time.

“No ma’am,” I replied promptly. “Where can I put these for you?”

“Right here is just fine.” She pointed to a luggage cart.

“I’d be happy to carry them to the car for you.” The cart might be easy for her to maneuver but lifting the heavy luggage into her trunk by herself? Not happening.

“My son is picking me up and I promise I won’t lift a thing.”

I looked around skeptically but didn’t see anyone but my own ride. I gave Bo Randolph a chin nod of acknowledgment but held on to the carry-on bag that looked like someone had puked flowers all over it.

“What’s up, man?” Bo bumped my fist in greeting and then pulled me in for a hug.

“Just making sure Mrs. Kremer gets to her car in one piece.”

“We’re waiting for my son,” she chirped. “And there he is now.” Mrs. Kremer’s son looked to be balding and forty. One glance from Bo and we silently agreed that despite her son being there, we’d be helping them out. Over both their protests, Bo and I picked up the luggage and placed it in the back of the four-door sedan. Mrs. Kremer gave us both a kiss, leaving behind the smell of lilacs and baby powder.

“Always the good Samaritan,” Bo joked as we walked to his crackerjack box of a car.

“You helped.”

He just shook his head. “Only because I’d have looked like a fool standing there while you hauled her luggage around.”

“She looked frail,” I protested. “Besides, you and I’ve both carried far more weight over much longer distances. Enough about the woman, let’s talk about your damn car. Will my pack even fit in there?”

“Yes, princess, it will. How come you didn’t ask Noah to pick you up if you hate my baby so much?” He hit a button and a sorry excuse for trunk space appeared at the rear of the vehicle.

“I didn’t want to make you cry. You’re an ugly crier,” I said. I threw my seabag and pack into the trunk and wedged myself inside the even tinier interior.

“True that. Seriously, forty-five days? How’d you manage that?”

“How do you think? I’m a lucky fuck.”

“So The Honorable Dennis Phillips came through?”

“Guess so.” My old man was on the House Armed Services Committee and had pulled some strings to get special dispensation for me take forty-five consecutive days of leave at the beginning of summer. Some of it was helped by the fact I’d taken almost zero leave for the past eight years and that I possessed a spotless record, but it was still a big deal. Other Marines would have killed to have even half that many days off in the summer. Literally knifed me in the gut. I shifted in the seat, which seemed too narrow for my six-foot-one, two-hundred-and-five-pound frame. “This car is too fucking small for you.”

“I like ‘em tight.” Bo stroked the leather dash of his sports car.

“Given your dick is so tiny, it’s no wonder you need ‘em small. AnnMarie’s still a virgin then?”

“What?” He jerked his hand back and glared at me. “No talking about AnnMarie and sex. Besides, I saw you staring at my junk plenty while we were in A-stan.”

“Because you whipped it out every five seconds.”

“Can’t help that my dick’s so big my regulation pants couldn’t keep it in.”

I shook my head but knew I was grinning like a loon. “Missed you, man.”

“You too,” Bo said, smiling back. “Forty-five days is going to be gone in a blink of an eye.”

“I know.” My return grin dimmed a little. This wasn’t entirely a vacation. My exact orders from Congressman Phillips were to pull my fucking head out of my ass and sign my reenlistment papers or start applying for college. He wanted me out and my grandfather wanted me to stay in. I felt a little like a sorry bone between two angry pit bulls.

I had eight years under my belt, a new meritorious promotion to staff sergeant that I wasn’t sure I deserved, and some serious doubt about whether being a career Marine was the right choice for my future. I made the mistake of mentioning during our Christmas dinner that making sure everyone was using knife hands while running during physical training didn’t seem to hold a lot of meaning and Dad pounced.

“There’s plenty of room for you outside the Corps,” he’d said.

Then Pops had bristled. “Corps was good enough for me and good enough for you. No sense in planting doubt in the boy’s head where there was none before.”

Match to kindling, the two were off in one of their heated arguments. Having two career Marines scream at each other like they were trying to make the other break first resulted in Mom leaving the table in tears and my two older brothers glaring at me. I wanted to sink under the tablecloth but since I started it, I sat there and took it like the man I was supposed to be.

Since then I’d told Pops that my commitment was as sound as ever and Dad that I’d think about college. When Bo and Noah, two former Marines in my platoon, invited me to spend my leave at their posh pad with a bevy of college coeds at the ready, I fled before the yelling could start again.

“You really in a tizzy about whether to re-enlist?” Bo asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Marines don’t get into tizzies,” I scoffed. “We get angry. Also drunk. Shitfaced. Tired. No tizzies, though.”

“Which one are you?”

“Tired. I’m supposed to shit or get off the pot.”

“Is shitting staying in or getting out?”

“We all know that re-enlisting is for the motards who can’t stop wearing all their USMC gear off the base, has more than one Marine tattoo, and can recite the Marine Hymn by heart.”

“So you, essentially.”

I slunk down in the seat and pressed a thumb to my temple.

“Which is why I should get out before I become one of those Marines that we all made fun of when we were lance corporals.”

“What’s the real problem?”

I pressed harder. “The real problem? Let’s see. I didn’t sign my re-enlistment papers yet, causing Captain Billings to call my dad, who then decided to gleefully tell Pops he had lost. They yelled. Mom cried. Oh, and my ex is sniffing around again.” And it sucked being responsible for people instead of just equipment, but I didn’t admit that last one out loud.

“Do whatever it is to make your mom stop crying,” Bo advised. “If mama isn’t happy, ain’t no one gonna be happy.”

Charlotte Chronicles XI & Cover Reveal for Unraveled

The cover reveal for Unraveled occurred today. It’s a fantastic collaboration of photography by David Wagner LA and design by Meljean Brook whose books are more amazing than her design skills. Thanks for The Rock Stars of Romance for putting together the cover reveal tour and thank you to all the bloggers that participated.

 

Blurb:

Twenty-five-year-old Sgt. Gray Phillips is at a crossroads in his life: stay in the Marine Corps or get out and learn to be a civilian? He’s got forty-five days of leave to make up his mind but the people in his life aren’t making the decision any easier. His dad wants him to get out; his grandfather wants him to stay in. And his growing feelings for Sam Anderson are wreaking havoc with his heart…and his mind. He believes relationships get ruined when a Marine goes on deployment. So now he’s got an even harder decision to make: take a chance on Sam or leave love behind and give his all to the Marines.

Twenty-two year old Samantha Anderson lost her husband to an IED in Afghanistan just two months after their vows. Two years later, Sam is full of regrets—that she didn’t move with her husband to Alaska; that she allowed her friends to drift away; that she hasn’t taken many chances in life. Now, she’s met Gray and taking a risk on this Marine could be her one opportunity to feel alive and in love again. But how can she risk her heart on another military man who could share the same tragic fate as her husband?

You can add it to your Goodreads shelves.  The book will be on sale for $3.99 on January 20, 2014.  There is still time to be part of the tour and obtain a copy of the ARC of Unraveled for review. Link to sign up is here.

***

Charlotte

My request for a kiss doesn’t result in Nathan rolling me over and pinning me down on the bed. Oh no, he jumps off the mattress like I’ve stuck a burning iron in his side. His athletic instincts kick in and he’s halfway across the room before another breath is taken by either of us.

“What the fuck?” he almost yells at me and then, tossing a worried glance toward the door as if my dad will bust through any minute, he lowers his voice and repeats the question sans profanity. “What did you just ask me?”

Scowling, I answer, “I asked for you to kiss me, not kill me.”

He places one hand on his hip and another he scrubs through his hair, looking exasperated but his irritation is nothing compared to my mounting annoyance. My earlier shyness is chased away by my frustration. This is classic Jackson brother behavior. Because I’m a girl, I can’t possibly want the same things that they do.

“Charlotte, I…” he begins but I cut him off. I don’t even want to hear what he has to say. I roll over on my side so I’m not facing him.

“Forget it. I’m not going to beg you.” I would if I thought it would do any good. It’s just…since I’ve been sick Nathan’s been different to me. He’s been nicer and he’s held me closer. His behavior is not so brotherly. I catch him looking at me with a gleam in his eye and it makes me feel warm all over. But now he’s looking everywherebut me and so I turn away.

I feel his body depress the side of the bed and he rolls me toward him.

“What’s this all about?”

“Nothing, just go away.” I keep my eyes covered so he can’t see my hurt at his instant rejection. He didn’t even have to think twice about it. He can kiss—and more—with any number of girls at school or other schools or heck, even that a couple of girls who live in our building but the idea of kissing me results in curse words and discomfort.

“I’m not going away,” he insists. His palm is on my shoulder and I feel electrified just from that small touch and I wonder what it would feel like if he touched me other places.

“All that talk about me being important to you seems like just that—talk.” I mumble still refusing to look at him. He pulls on my wrist that is covering my eyes but I resist. It would be easy for him to overpower me but instead he just lets go and even that makes me sad.

“It’s not just talk, but you’re fifteen and I think we should wait.”

“I’ll be sixteen in five months and it’s not like you weren’t kissing girls when you were fifteen.”

“You stay here and we’ll kiss when you’re ready.”

I drop my arm away and sit up abruptly. Nathan reaches out to steady me and we are only inches apart. If I leaned forward I could kiss him. Instead I say slowly and clearly, “I’m ready now.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know this? You were like twelve the first time you kissed Molly Masterson at her birthday party. And you had sex when you were fourteen at Olivia Petrzelka in her parents’ rec room.”

He gapes at me. “Goddamn Nick. I’m going to beat him until he can’t remember his own name let alone anything about me.”

“Nick? If you want to shut down the gossip pipeline, you better start picking better partners.”

Nathan does a double take. “Are you saying that it’s the girls?” He draws out the word girls in shocked disbelief.

“What do you think we’re talking about?” I drop to the bed and stretch out on the big bed like a starfish.  “I’m going to kiss someone some day. Do you want that first kiss to be yours?”

He glares at me and presses his lips together but behind his glower I can see something else, something that maybe if I was more experienced I could identify. I just know it’s there and it’s something other than anger.

I stretch farther, making tiny linen angels in my bedsheets. Nathan’s attention is diverted and at first I think he’s staring at my chest, where my IV port is but then I realize his gaze is lower, much lower. A devilish impulse comes over me and I undulate my hips, draw my legs up and allow my knees to fall to the side. As I watch beneath my eyelashes, Nathan does not look away. He’s riveted and my gaze falls down his body past his chest and down to his sweatpants that hide absolutely nothing.

I’ve seen erections before, on the Internet, but I couldn’t decide whether I thought that penises were disgusting or attractive. I prefer looking at the naked chest, the abs on a male model,  or even his back.  Somehow I know that Nathan’s erection would be different, amazing. Girls in the locker room talk about blow jobs and oral but I haven’t done any of that. I pretend like I know what they are talking about but the closest I’ve ever come to anything remotely sexual is a few Tumblr gifs. No one is willing to brave the Jackson brothers to get to me and I haven’t been too interested in breaching the line either.

Saliva pools in my mouth as I think about taking Nathan inside my mouth and I wonder what it would feel like ifhe touches me between my legs.  As quickly as the wanton spirit had spread over me, it leaves and I lock my legs together, rolling to the side, embarrassed at my thoughts.

Nathan groans, my motions awakening him from his trance. He turns to face the wall, and presses his forehead against a palm. Shame sets in and I’m sorry for what I’m doing to Nathan, what I’m doing to myself.

“I’m going to Switzerland. I’m leaving after the first of the year and I just don’t want my first time to be with someone other than you.” I bite my lip and then touch him tentatively on his back and wait for his response.

As always, you can receive the Charlotte Chronicles in your inbox one week before the entry is posted here.

Charlotte Chronicles X

The release of Unraveled is soon upon us! You can sign up here to be part of the Cover Release and/or the Book Tour. The cover is gorgeous.

***

Nathan

Getting into Charlotte’s bedroom isn’t exactly easy but it’s doable. Both penthouse condos have security but it’s outwardly focused meaning that the cameras are on the elevators and the entrances as are the alarms. When Uncle Bo built the Randolph Towers, he built a long hallway between the kitchens of the two condos. There’s a service elevator there but it shut down every night at 7 pm. Anything sent up after that would set off an alarm.

Dad explained this to Nick and I when I was ten and Nick was eight when he caught us trying to pry open the elevator doors to see if we could climb down the shaft and pretend we were Woody and Buzz from Toy Story.  Shortly after we found ourselves enrolled in a rock climbing classes so we’d have harnesses for the time we thought about rappelling down the inside of an elevator shaft.

Nick and I’ve had some dumbass ideas over the years. Mom says it’s a miracle we’re still alive so there’s some kind of sick ass irony over Charlotte being the one so sick, her health so fragile that she has to move away. She never tried to climb down the rooftop terrace onto the balcony and she covered her eyes on the sidewalk when Nick and I played Frogger on Michigan Avenue.

But of all the stupid ideas that Nick and I had come up with over the years, not one of them came close to Charlotte’s belief that leaving me—us—would make her better. Which is why I’m creeping down the service hallway between our two homes and into her bedroom at midnight.

Earlier today I’d been in Charlotte’s kitchen, ostensibly because we were out of milk or at least that’s what I told Donna, the Randolph’s housekeeper.  She rolled her eyes, handed me a carton and kicked me out. I stuffed some putty into the lock when she wasn’t looking and sure enough the door opens soundlessly, lock unengaged. Score.

There is little light over the stove, but I’ve been in Charlotte’s home enough to walk through it blindfolded.  Silently moving over the marble tile and then on down the hall to the bedrooms, the darkness hides the figure leaning against the wall right past the entrance of the living room.

“You got a death wish boy?” rumbles Uncle Bo’s voice. My heart stutters and then I trip on the smooth surface nearly falling on my face.  A hand passes over my mouth and I’m jerked upright.

Blood pounding in my ears, I look up into the shadowed face of Charlotte’s Dad. He looks like he can see every dirty thought I’d had about his fifteen year old daughter. Almost sixteen though, well, in May or so and that’s only like five months away.  As the silence lengthens between us, I remind myself that Uncle Bo loves me. I’m like his firstborn son, really.

“Hey Uncle Bo,” I mumble into his hand.

His hand drops from my face to my shoulder and he turns so that we are looking straight at each other. I’m an inch taller than him but not as bulked out. I wonder briefly whether I could take him and that must show on my face because he busts out a huge grin. “No, you can’t take me, son.”

“In a couple of years,” I say only half in jest, still wondering if my nuts are in danger of being chopped off because there’s really only one reason I could be standing in this hallway.

Whatever Bo is thinking, he doesn’t let on. Instead his hands fall away and he turns on his heel and walks toward his own bedroom. Over his shoulder he says, “She needs her sleep.”

I’m momentarily paralyzed. I think he’s given me permission to enter Charlotte’s bedroom but it could also be a trap. The darkness at the end of the hall swallowed him up and I quickly dart into Charlotte’s room before Bo can come back.

Charlotte isn’t asleep. She’s lying on top of her covers listening to something, no doubt a female artist. Charlotte says she doesn’t like to hear male voices or maybe she just doesn’t like what male’s sing about. Who knows. I’ve never given it much thought. The lamp on her nightstand is the only illumination in the room.

She doesn’t even move when I come in although the carpet pile is so thick in here that an elephant could walk in and the sound would be swallowed up. Puzzled I sit on the side of the bed and pull down her headphones.  Does she have so many midnight visitors that my appearance here is just normal?

“Nick texted me.” She holds up her phone and I see a huge number of texts between the two. My mouth falls open as I take in the sheer volume of exchanges. They must text each other like every day, several times a day. A curd of something unfurls inside of me and I don’t like it. There’s always been a closeness between Nick and Charlotte, but it’s just a friendship. That’s what I’ve always believed. “And I told Daddy so he wouldn’t shoot you when you tripped the alarm.”

“You have interior alarms?”

She looks at me like I’m stupid and I guess I am. “Yes, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” At least I didn’t up until this moment. Nick and I would have to do some snooping. “I think your dad did threaten me out there in the hall but I’m not sure what the consequences will be.”

“Oh it’ll be castration,” she says impishly like it’s no big deal but I think my nuts are shrinking just at the thought. “That’s his go-to threat.” She moves over on the bed to make room for me. I stretch out beside her still a little tense but then I tell myself her dad is three doors down and I’d be able to be on my feet and in the armchair before he even twists her doorknob.

“Real comforting, Charlotte.” I suppress the urge to cup myself protectively.

She smirks but the expression fades away quickly at my next question.

“Why are you really leaving? There’s no way there is better medical care somewhere else in the world than you can get here. Is it because we hid you were sick? So we don’t do that anymore.”

We both look at the other side of the bed were an IV stand sits like a creepy skeleton. Charlotte has had to have one bag of IV nutrition a day since Halloween. It’s nearing Christmas and she looks a lot healthier now. The bones in her wrists and shoulders don’t look as sharp and her cheeks are fuller. She can stand to gain another twenty pounds but I keep that to myself. The last time I mentioned that she should eat more, she threw her sandwich at me and didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. But I bet she texted Nick, I think sourly.

“I just…” she pauses and then squints at the ceiling as if she can read her thoughts up there. “It’s not just the hiding thing because that was my fault not yours. It’s everything. I’m so behind in all my classes and everyone looks at me like I’m about to keel over. Where I’m going, you know, everyone there is kind of in the same boat I’m in.”

“We can take care of you better than anyone,” I tell her. She glances at me and smiles and it’s the smile that she gets when she’s about to do something that she knows no one is going to like. I saw that smile when she jumped stripped down to her underwear at the Carson’s pool party last summer, right after she’d turned fifteen. We’d had a big fight after that. She kept telling me it was the same as wearing a bikini and that every other girl had done the same thing. Everyone wasn’t Charlotte though. I didn’t care what every one else did. I only cared what Charlotte did but she didn’t see it that way. She just thought I was being Nate, the no fun police when it came to her.

“You know, before I was sick you were pretty mean to me all the time.”

“Was not.” I was never mean to her. Watching out for her yes. Mean, no.

“You were. You’re always criticizing what I’m wearing or that I’m hanging out with the wrong people who—“ she points a finger into my chest, “—are the same people you hang out with.”

I grab her finger so the pointy nail doesn’t dig any farther into my chest wall and then I cover her hand with mine so her palm is flat against my pecs. “I’m just watching out for you.”

She comes closer until her head is resting on my bicep and then her hand curls underneath my arm. “Nate.” My name is like a soft sigh escaping and it sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard from her before.  It’s almost like a caress, a whisper of longing underneath a note of tenderness. My hand grips hers tighter and I roll so I can face her, my palm still clasping hers over my heart.

“If I’ve ever made you feel bad, I’m sorry,” I tell her. There are a few strands of hair that are falling across her forward and so I move them for her, tucking them behind her ear. Her eyes flutter shut and this time I see contentment. She ducks her head and I stroke run my fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp. The moan that she releases is so sexy that it goes from my fingers straight to my dick. Do I tell her that every time I’ve ever been angry was when I was scared or jealous and sometimes both? That she grew from kid to someone who made my pants too tight with just a smile in what seemed like overnight and that if she was affecting me this way, she had to be affecting every male around her in that fashion except for Nick who apparently still sees her as Charlotte, his five year old playmate?

“No, I know it’s because you care.” Her hand slips out from under mine and creeps up to my shoulder.  My hand stills and merely cups the back of her head. She begins a small exploration feeling my clavicle and then down over the ridges of my bicep and back up again.  Goosebumps freckle my skin at her touch and I wonder if she knows what affect she has on me. Nah, because if she did, she wouldn’t be lying here so angelic next to me.

Or maybe she would. Maybe all those times she was challenging me to do something.

“I do care,” I say, pulling her head closer to mine. “Did you know I was the first one outside of your family to hold you? Nick was still a baby so Mom was holding him and Dad was getting cigars out for everyone. Aunt AM had the nurse place you in my lap.”

“How do you remember these things? You were like two.”

“I just do,” I shrug and the motion makes her hand fall away. It slips under my arm and then finds it way to my chest. I wonder if she can feel the thunderous beat of my heart. I don’t think she’s ever touched me this much, this closely, with this kind of attention. My loose sweatpants are suddenly too confining as every part of me strains toward her feather light caresses.

“I can’t remember anything.”

The back of her head has a surgical scar and the hair is thin and slightly curly.  Under her hair and her skin lies a shunt, a tube that drains out any excess fluid. Charlotte thinks her head is too big in the back but it feels okay to me. I’m surprised she is allowing me to touch her there but I don’t question it nor do I fiddle with her scar, knowing that if I pay too much attention to what she thinks are flaws our little moment will be over.

“I remember when you turned two. You got cupcakes instead of a birthday cake but none of us could eat until you’d take a bite but you were confused by the paper around the cupcake. Nick got impatient and stuck his fingers in your frosting and made you cry.”

“I don’t remember that either.”

“I do,” I say curtly. I remember all of it, Charlotte, and now I realize it’s because you’re mine. I was born for you and you were born for me. “Don’t go. Stay here with us.” I say us because it’s safer.

“I’m going because it’s better for all of us,” she responds and then tugs on my shoulder until our faces are so close together I can see the tiny hairs on her forehead. “But Nate before I go, I want—“ she stops and then ducks her head into my chest and I feel her say something against my shirt but I can’t make it out.

“Want what?”

“Iwantyoutokissme.”

As always, if you sign up for the newsletter you’ll get an entry in the Charlotte Chronicles in your inbox a week ahead of time!

Last Gift by Jen Frederick and Jessica Clare, a holiday gift

Are you ready for one more gift today? Jessica Clare and I cooked up a holiday short with Daisy and Nikolai. It’s about 7500 words of Russian goodness. Read Last Gift on your favorite device or just on your computer. It’s free, of course, and yours to share if you like.

ePub: http://bit.ly/1c7ywL8

Mobi: http://bit.ly/K4vcKq

PDF: http://bit.ly/1eF70fU

You can pick up Last Hit (or even gift it) from your favorite retailers:

Amz: http://amzn.to/1gcBPs3

B&N: http://bit.ly/1ec1YTu

ARe: http://bit.ly/19i6SOR

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1fI4G4c

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1c7yLFT

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1a8WLsA

Unraveled, Book 3 in the Woodlands Series, Cover Reveal and Blog Tour SignUp

If you haven’t heard yet, Book 3 is named Unraveled. I finally decided on this particular title because the heroine is a knitter and because for Sam and Gray their feelings for each other unravel a lot plans.

You can sign up here to be part of the Cover Release and/or the Book Tour. 

I really adore the cover of Unraveled. I hired a photographer and models for my own cover shoot so this cover is unique to Unraveled.  So sign up to get an early peak at this gorgeous cover. Think Gray.

Charlotte Chronicles IX

Last Hit is finally on sale at the iTunes store!  Link here. Don’t forget that Snow Kissed is on sale and includes a wonderfully steamy story featuring Noah and Grace (Nathan’s parents).

Amazon | BN | Smaswords | All Romance | Kobo

****

Nathan

Halloween

Charlotte, Nick and I go to the Halloween party. Charlotte insisted when Nick and I suggested we just have an x-box tournament and hand out halloween candy to the kids in the building.

She is Peter Pan which she says fits her short haircut. Somehow Nick got to be Hook and I got shoved into wings and scratchy tutu. I drew the line at tights and makeup though. A dozen different girls and a couple of guys have stroked their hands down my legs making me wish I’d chosen a longer skirt. It is like bare legs and a short skirt are an invitation for people to touch. I’d have to make sure Charlotte never wore a short skirt again.

“What’s this thing made of?” I ask Charlotte bringing her another cup of punch. Claudia Amsden’s condo was full of people although Charlotte and Nick were a couple of the youngest ones here.

“Tulle,” she says.

“It’s scratching my tool,” I joke but when I see Charlotte flush I want to curse myself at making such a stupid joke in front of her. “Sorry,” I mutter and sit down next to her.

“Sorry I blush so easy?” she says taking a sip of the punch. She tries to hide a grimace but I see it. My parents have said that her chemo and radiation can screw with the taste buds. By the look of Charlotte, I wonder if there is anything that she enjoys eating anymore. Before she got sick, she was slender but muscular. Now, her bones are becoming more and more prominent but I know if I say anything it will make her feel bad so I bite my tongue and pretend I don’t notice. I’m doing a lot of that lately. Pretending to not see that she doesn’t eat or that she’s throwing up a lot or that she looks exhausted all of the time.

We both survey the crowd. Most of the girls are wearing the barely-there version of some costume like a police uniform was transformed into a shirt that buttons only at the waist and hot pants with platform heels or a construction uniform that was transformed into jumpsuit that was unzipped to the belly button and ended just slightly below the girl’s ass. Surprisingly there are a number of guys dressed up like me, fake cross dresser. A couple of guy’s wearing wonder women costumes and one guy who is dressed up as fake Katniss Everdeen. We all look like fools but it’s halloween. I think we’re supposed to look silly. Or sexy.

Charlotte looks neither silly nor sexy. Instead, the slight flush that had appeared earlier has faded and her skin looks almost translucent with a slight green tint to her complexion. I wonder if it is from the costume. The glass in her hand shakes lightly and she cups her other hand to steady it. Even her mouth looks tired, as if she doesn’t have the energy to show any emotion. All the signs worry me but I know that if I suggest leaving, Charlotte will be even more distressed. Nick and I worked on her for the last three weeks to get her to come with us.

“Can I find you a quiet place?” I ask.

She glances around and then nods shortly revealing exactly how poorly she feels. If she had any resources left, she’d say she was having the best time of her life. I want to lift her in my arms and carry her out of her but I allow myself just to help her to her feet. She leans heavily against my arm and again, I tamp down the urge to sweep her up and carry her away. Across the room, I see Nick rise from his seat but I give him a short shake of my head. Grace isn’t going to want to see both of us Jacksons rushing to her side. He gives me a reluctant nod and sits back down.

Down the hall I find an empty guest room and give in to the urge I’ve been fighting. Sweeping Charlotte into my arms, I carry her to the bed. She doesn’t even protest, only sighs with relief. I lay her down on top of the comforter and her head lolls to the side. She isn’t even awake. Panic sets in. There’s no way she fell asleep in the time it took to enter the room and for me to place her on the bed. I tap her cheeks lightly, the cheeks that are waxen and cold.

“Charlotte.” My voice is loud and insistent but she doesn’t respond. I slap her a little harder but she still lies like she’s out cold. Fear is chasing down my spine as I lean over and place my head on her chest. Her heart is beating, but I don’t know if the pace is normal or too slow or too fast. It feels fast. I place my fingers over my own pulse at the base of my throat and count. God, what did I learn this past summer about CPR? Count the beats for fifteen seconds and then multiply by four but fuck, my heart is racing. I press my fingers hard against Charlotte’s neck and count. About thirty beats go by in the fifteen seconds. Charlotte’s heart feels like a bird.

I fumble in my pocket and call my dad but he doesn’t answer. Uncle Bo’s phone just rings and rings too. Then I remember that they are hosting a party at Dad and Aunt AM’s offices for clients. Scrubbing my hand over my mouth, I rifle through a bunch of options. Calling 911 seems extreme. Charlotte would be so pissed at me if I drag EMTs to break up Claudia’s party. But fuck, fuck, fuck. She’s non responsive.

Giving her another chance, I shake her lightly. Nothing. There’s a bathroom attached to the room. I race inside, gather water into my hands and leaving the faucet running, I run back and drop the water onto Charlotte’s face.  Still nothing. My heart in my throat I type in the emergency number. But I wait. A second. Then two. Charlotte lies there, her heart racing looking like a waxen doll.

Hesitating only one second more, I press send. “I’m sorry Charlotte but I’d rather have you hate me than for you to be dead.” I kiss her cold cheek and then run out to get Nick.

“Charlotte’s sick. I’ve called 911.” Before I can get the rest of my words out, Nick runs into the bedroom. I hear him shout Charlotte’s name.  I pull Varner, a friend of mine and a defensive lineman on our team, aside. “Charlotte’s sick. EMT is coming. Make sure they get up here ASAP.”

Varner claps me on the back and says, “On it, brother.” I don’t waste another minute and head back to Charlotte. Inside Nick has her in his arms. His eyes are wide and a little red. “Has she said anything?” But I can see it’s a useless question. Charlotte’s arms hang down by her side like there is no life in them.

“No,” he answers and hugs her closer. I want to be hugging Charlotte too but I need to keep an eye out for the EMTs. Each minute seems to drag by but later I realize that the EMT services arrive quickly. Claudia’s address is a wealthy one and there are no delays for rich people.

The EMTs won’t allow either Nick or I to ride to the hospital in the ambulance. We catch a cab and it is on the way to the hospital that I finally get dad on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” he barks into the phone.

“Charlotte,” I choke out. The emotions of the evening are catching up to me and my throat is thick with them. My dad doesn’t hesitate.

“Where should we meet you?”

“Hospital,” I say.

This time there is a moment of silence before I hear my dad curse. “Which one?”

“Rush U.”

“We’ll be there.” He’s gone before I can say another word.

“She going to be okay?” Nick asks, his voice sounds small and scared. I put my arm around him and that he allows it, that he actually puts his head on my shoulder like he used to when we were younger, makes me feel horrible. Guilty and sick inside.

“Yeah,” I say trying to overcome those feelings, trying to put on a good front. “Charlotte is a fighter. Stronger than both of us.”

Because Charlotte can’t die. She can’t die and leave us. I won’t allow it to happen.  Charlotte belongs in this world, with me. With all of us but mostly me. Inside my head I’m screaming and praying and bargaining.Please, please, please, I say silently, I’ll do anything. Anything.

By the time that we arrive at the hospital, Charlotte is nowhere to be seen and no one is telling two teenagers anything. We wait in the lobby for our parents and hers to arrive. They burst through the doors. AM and Bo run past us to the desk. Dad stops in front of us.

“What happened?” He commands. Bo turns toward us. He looks big and menacing.

“We were at the party and she looked tired. I thought she needed to lie down so I took her to the guest room but by the time we got there she must’ve passed out.” I ran through the next events. “I tried to rouse her but she wouldn’t come to. I called you both but there was no answer.” I hear Aunt AM’s voice catch and then a cry. Mom rushes over and places an arm around Aunt AM’s shoulder. My gaze swings back to Dad. “I call 911.”

Uncle Bo steps forward and squeezes my shoulder with his big hand. I’m almost as tall as him, almost as tall as my dad, I realize almost absently.  “You did good, son,” Uncle Bo says and gives Dad a chin nod.

Dad leads both Nick and I away but we don’t want to go.  We drag our heels, anxiously trying to overhear something but Dad is implacable and we do what he says. Mom comes over and holds our hands. It’s a little comforting but not much.

It seems like it is hours before we get nay news which I figure must be good. Finally someone comes out and speaks to Aunt AM and Uncle Bo. Whatever the news is I can’t hear because Dad is standing in front of Nick and I, like blocking us from getting to them. When Aunt AM collapse into Uncle Bo, I try to break away from my Dad but his big arm stops me.

The doctor walks over to us and Charlotte’s parents are right behind them.

“How long has she been vomiting at school?” The doctor asks Nick and I. We share another glance, a guilty one, that my mom reads instantly.

“Nathan and Nicholas Jackson, what have you been hiding?” she says sternly.

Nick pipes up immediately. “She didn’t want to say anything because she knew you would take her out of school.”

“I was making sure she rested too,” I stupidly say.

“Where?” Uncle Bo asks.

“The training room.” I look down at my shoes and realize for the first time that I’m standing here in a fucking tutu and wings. I tear the wings off and pull down the tutu so that I’m now just wearing gym shorts and a tank. Unfortunately, taking off the ridiculous costume doesn’t make me feel one ounce better. I shouldn’t have covered for her but how was I supposed to know that she was too sick to be at school.  Maybe I should’ve known. Maybe all this is my fault.

Uncle Bo and Aunt Am move away and head with the doctor toward Charlotte’s room. I try to follow but again Dad stops me. “This isn’t something you can keep to yourself. It’s not like drinking my Scotch on New Year’s Eve and pretending you don’t know anything about it. Pretending like Charlotte isn’t sick doesn’t make her better.” I nod because I know if I don’t I’ll never get to see Charlotte again.

Charlotte

I’ve messed up bad. Dad’s face looks like a thundercloud and Mom looks like I’ve danced all over her heart.

“You and those Jackson boys,” Mom mutters. I’ve never heard her refer to Nate and Nick as the “Jackson boys.” Those guys are like her sons.

“Mom, it’s my fault. I begged them to not tell you.”

Mom closes her eyes, I guess praying for patience.  “Your doctor says your throat looks like you ate a Brillo pad, it’s so red and sore. You must be vomiting daily, at least once or twice a day. I know you’ve been losing weight, but I thought maybe if I just kept quiet, you’d eat.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. I was trying to be strong but obviously I’d gone about it in a stupid way.

Mom continued, “So now, you’re going to have to be fed intravenously until your weight gets back up. You’re dehydrated and undernourished. We can’t allow you to go back to school, either.”  She presses her face to my fingers. “Baby girl, we love you and if you can’t take care of yourself then we’re going to do it for you.”

“I’m sorry.” My tears are coming and her tears are wetting my hand. “I’m so sorry. I was stupid. Please don’t blame Nick or Nate. Please.”

“We won’t.” Dad finally breaks his silence and sits on the other side of the bed.  “Those two would break their arms off before they’d hurt you intentionally. But Birdie this is one reason we thought you might be better off leaving Chicago to get better. Those boys, they love you too much but they’re too young to know how to help you. You three are bumbling around like blind mice inside a big maze. It’s okay when you’re all healthy but like it or not, Birdie, you’re a sick little girl. You can get better but not by hiding stuff from us.”

I nod but Dad presses on. “You outta think what you are doing to those boys. Think hard because your illness could be distracting for them. Make it hard for them to study or focus on their other stuff because they’re too worried about you.”

He’s right. I look down at my sheet covered body. Tonight Nick and Nate had to be talked into going to the Halloween party. If I hadn’t insisted they would’ve stayed home. I can see it now. Every party or event or invitation would be weighed against whether I am well enough to go and if I’m not, they’d both stay home. They’d laugh and tell me that they’d rather be with me, but the truth is my illness will be making them prisoners just like it is holding me hostage.  I won’t do that to them. To either of them.  I love them too much. I don’t want them to miss even one thing because I am sick. That seems too stupid beyond words.

I squeeze my mom’s hand. “I’ve always wanted to go to Switzerland.”

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Snow Kissed is now available. Read Chapter One of Undressed here

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When mouthy Luna is voted off of Endurance Island: Alaska first, she’s a little bitter about it. The only thing that assuages her pride is knowing that Owen(the sexy-but-douchey guy that ousted her) was out next. This means, unfortunately, that they’re spending a lot of time at the Loser Lodge together. But will their fiercely competitive natures bring them together for the sexiest Christmas of all?  20,914 words.

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Noah and Grace want to spend their first Christmas together but their holiday cheer is marred by an unethical professor and Noah’s quest for wealth. Grace shows him that sometimes all the control he needs in the world is right in the bedroom. 28,787 words.

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Widowed billionaire Gabriel Trentham never expected that the new nanny he hired would be the same woman he spent an unforgettable night with six months earlier. She’s determined to keep it professional between them now, but will a blizzard provide him the opportunity he needs to change her mind? 37,612 words.

First Chapter of Undressed.

ONE

Noah

“YOU’RE MAKING A BIG MISTAKE.” My trainer Paulie Generoli had been repeating this sentence since the moment I walked in the door at five in the morning. It was now seven, and my patience had just about run out.

“I never would’ve guessed.” I rolled my head on my neck and reminded myself that nothing I did ever really satisfied Paulie. It was why we made a good team. He pushed me hard. And I pushed back. I was actually surprised that he kept repeating himself—he had to know by now that I wasn’t going to change my mind. “I told you. This is the first Christmas I’ve been able to spend with Grace. No matter what you say, I’m going.”

“Randolph, tell your fucking friend to get his fucking head out of his ass and to stop making decisions with his fucking dick,” Paulie roared.

Bo Randolph, my best friend for over a decade and my former Marine battle buddy, looked at me with a comical expression of helplessness. He didn’t want to gainsay Paulie because Paulie was always on the verge of kicking Bo out for being too aggressive during sparring matches. Bo held up his hands in a classic gesture of surrender. “I’m Switzerland.”

Being neutral wasn’t enough for Paulie. “Get out then, you worthless fuckhead.”

Paulie’s verbal abuse was pretty much all bark, no bite, but the grin Bo and I exchanged only served to ratchet up Paulie’s temper.

“You think this is funny?” Paulie yelled. His voice was reaching dangerous decibels and his face was redder than the Everlast boxing gloves that were pinned up around Spartan Gym.

“It’ll be better for you both if you just give it up, Paulie. You know Noah. He’s not going to change his mind.” Bo dispatched this last piece of wisdom before gathering his hand wraps and towel and heading for the locker room for one of the cold showers so graciously allowed by Paulie.

Spartan Gym was known for its no-frills workouts and the lack of heated water in the bathroom was just one of the things that Paulie thought made this a real gym as opposed to one where people went to show off.

He was kidding himself, though. There were plenty of show offs in the Spartan Gym, but no one was angling for a date. Instead, inside the painted brick walls there was a constant battle to prove whose dick was biggest.

It was mine, of course.

The winners of this contest were those who could take the most knocks without crying mercy. Bo and I ruled this gym, but I was the king, especially having just come off winning my first professional MMA fight over Thanksgiving. Grace and I hadn’t been talking then, and I was damned if I was going to let another holiday go by without spending it together.

I’d endured too many years apart from Grace Sullivan. She’d shown more patience than any other girl in her right mind would’ve, and I’d almost lost her more than once through my own stupidity. I couldn’t keep taking advantage of her willingness to forgive me. This holiday, I had special plans—and they required us to be physically together.

“You have a goddamn fight on New Year’s Eve!” Paulie yelled at me.

“I’m standing right in front of you,” I said slowly. His endless screaming was firing up my own anger. “No need to yell.”

“I’m fucking yelling because you have no goddamn idea how to fucking prepare for the biggest motherfucking fight of your pathetic fucking life.”

I almost punched him then. Stepping in close so that the only thing in Paulie’s field of vision was me, I leaned over him, my sweat probably dripping onto his bald head. “I’ve worked with you for more than seven months now, but if you don’t let it go, this New Year’s bout will be the last one we fight together.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I spun on my heel and followed Bo into the locker room.

“You think this is a mistake?” I asked Bo after we’d taken our ice-cold showers. The water temperature kept the showering time to a minimum, which required a carefully coordinated system of getting wet, soaping up, and rinsing off that took, at the most, three minutes. Any longer and my balls would crawl up my leg and try to hide themselves in my body.

Bo gave a shrug and tossed his barely wet towel onto the metal bench. Still dripping with water, Bo began throwing on his clothes. It was just that cold in here. “Can’t say. You’re dedicated. You know what you want, and I get that it’s important for you to see Grace. So if you don’t see Grace, your head might be in the wrong place. And that’s worse than missing a week of training.”

“I’m not missing a week of training,” I insisted. This was a sore point for me. Yes, I had a fight on New Year’s Eve and yes, I was going to spend three days with Grace over Christmas. But I was going to be working out during that time, and then I’d be back in Paulie’s hands the day after Christmas.

“It’s three days.” Fisting the towel in my hand, I said, “You know how important it is for me to get this prize money. And the win means sponsors, which means more income from fighting.”

Bo clapped me on the shoulder as he walked toward the locker room door. “Then you’re golden. Don’t sweat it. I’ll go distract Paulie for you.”

Alone in the locker room, I slumped on the bench with the towel wrapped around my waist. The cold water was beading up against my skin, but I barely noticed. I knew Grace wouldn’t mind if I didn’t come home. Hell, her brother was in a bowl game and he wasn’t coming home except for a couple of days before Christmas. In fact, we’d be driving from Las Vegas to Tempe, Arizona early the next morning after the fight so we could make Josh’s game.

I knew Grace would tell me that I should do whatever was best for my career, but between finishing classes, fighting, and running my own little business, I didn’t have much time for her. Part of me, a big part, wondered how long Grace was going to stick around while her boyfriend’s attention was scattered on everything besides her.

I carved out a few hours in each afternoon for her and the nights were all hers, but when I got up at five in the morning to run and train before classes, I was falling asleep before midnight. This was a time for Grace to party and have fun, and I was holding her back.

But if I didn’t pursue all these avenues, I’d never have the money to make all the things happen that I wanted to happen. Grace came from money. When I was on leave from one of my last deployments before separating from the Marines, I’d gone to Grace’s home. I flew into Chicago and drove the hour up the North Shore in my rented SUV. I was too cheap to spring for an upgrade on my own, but the counter person had given me a freebie when she saw my military ID.

When I arrived at Grace’s address, I couldn’t view the house itself because her driveway, which was behind a friggin’ gate, was too long for me to see anything but acres of carefully tended grass and trees. The lawn looked like it belonged in front of museum or a hotel. I’d sat in the truck, staring at the house number etched on a brick post at the edge of the drive. It was the same number that had been on all the return address labels of the care packages and letters Grace had sent to me since she was fourteen. And no matter how long I had stared at it, it never changed.

I’d known then and there that Grace and I weren’t ever going to be anything more than pen pals. I was some trailer trash from a town in West Texas so tiny it could’ve fit into the entire lawn of one of these North Shore homes. While there were guys from all backgrounds that were in the Marines with me, including officers who’d graduated from Harvard, of all the fucking places, we were bound together by the same oaths and goals. We shit in the same dirt and ate the same awful MRE out on patrol. We carried the same rucksacks and suffered the same problems. Girls who cheated on you back home, parents who cried every time you skyped them, not having an ounce of privacy.

But Grace and I didn’t have a thing in common—other than we both resorted to talking about the weather when we were uncomfortable—and I sure as shit knew that wasn’t something you could base a relationship on.

After sitting outside for what had seemed like an hour but was actually only about twenty minutes, I turned and went straight back to the airport. Once there, I’d paid the change fee to get a flight back to San Diego that same day. During the long wait, I’d penned a letter to Grace where I explained we were two different people from two different backgrounds with different futures. It was the last letter I sent to her, and I never got a reply back. My message had been all too clear.

The last few months of deployment were excruciating. I got two more care packages that Grace must have mailed out before my last letter had reached her. One of them included a picture of her looking so sweet and gorgeous that everything from my teeth to my groin ached. I gave everything in the boxes away but the picture and then tormented myself by reading those last two letters of hers over and over again. The what ifs began to haunt me. I became a restless, surly son of a bitch and no one wanted to be around me. Only Bo had stuck by me because well, hell, I don’t even know why. Somewhere in the desert, I figured out that if I could last out four tours of combat, I could do anything—including becoming what Grace needed.

It had never really registered that Grace had fallen for me, an enlisted Marine, without more than two pennies to scrub together when I entered at age seventeen. I still had a hard time comprehending it. Sometimes, when she was lying next to me at night, I’d stroke her arm or leg, not with any sexual meaning—okay, not with a primary sexual intent—just to remind myself that the reality was that Grace was still with me despite my blow off, despite my two-year silence, despite my lack of funds. But I wondered when she’d wake up to the realization that there was someone better out there for her.

 

AFTER DRESSING, I DROPPED OFF my finance project at Professor Billing’s office. It was an independent project where I was to conduct a feasibility study on the best franchise to purchase in the metro. I figured I’d get my three credit A because I’d not only finished the study but I’d bought an actual franchise.

The self-serve yogurt shop I’d purchased from an elderly Asian man, who’d wanted to move to Denver to be closer to his family, had low running costs. The most expensive part of the business was the labor. But because it required only a couple of high school students to run the register and make sure that all the yogurt and fixings were available, even the wages part of the expense column was manageable. I figured that with the profits from this one shop, I’d be able to open two more before the next semester was out, and then I’d move on to more expensive and more profitable ventures.

This project was really just a way for me to understand how to make money at something other than fighting.

On the upside of his thirties, Professor Billings liked to shoot the shit with me about my professional mixed martial art fighting career and the time I spent over in Iraq and then Afghanistan.

Billings claimed to have served himself, but I didn’t see how that was possible. He would have been too young to have made it through college and grad school and the military unless he had an early discharge due to a medical condition or something. But I never asked because poser or not, at the end of the day he was still responsible for my grade, and I didn’t need to piss him off by suggesting that his story about being military reeked. Even if his company chafed from time to time, he was my advisor, and I needed to make him happy.

Learning how to make people in charge happy was actually one of the things the Corps had taught me. Every officer had their own quirks, and learning what buttons to push to ensure that the rest of the enlisted who served with you didn’t have to suffer was worthwhile.

As long as I wasn’t emotionally involved with them, I could actually read people pretty well. But once my heart was part of the equation, all bets were off. I couldn’t always tell what Grace was thinking. Everyone said she was easy to read—that all of her emotions flitted across her face like an open book. But I was too blinded by my fear that she would leave me to separate out my projections from her true feelings. And recently, she seemed to be hiding from me. That made me extra tense.

Rolling my shoulders, I tried to release some of the tension that I’d tried to work out this morning at the gym. I had to keep up my grades to keep my scholarship and continue to get funds from the GI Bill. I had to win this upcoming Vegas match so that I could get more sponsors. I had to find a decent manager so that my little franchise would actually generate enough money to turn a big profit. I had to keep down my bile at the thought of crossing through the gates of the Sullivan family mansion. An irrational fear lurked in the back of my mind: that when I crossed over onto the hotel-like lawn, floodlights would shine down and dogs would attack me and sirens would sound off, repeating one word, “Fraud. Fraud. Fraud.”

Until I had enough money, I’d always feel like Grace could do better than me. Inhaling deeply, I shoved everything out of my mind except for Professor Billings and my independent study. One task at a time. One step at a time. That’s how I’d survived twenty mile marches in the sand, just reminding myself it was one step at a time.

The door to Professor Billings’ office was open, but I knocked anyway. Showing deference was one way to prop up the egos of self-important people.

“Come on in, Mr. Jackson,” Professor Billings called out. He didn’t stand as I walked in, ensuring that we both knew who held the power in this room. “And shut the door behind you.”

I complied and then dug out my study portfolio and set it on my side of the desk as I situated myself in the chair that sat in front of it. Billings hadn’t offered a chair, but I took one anyway.

With people like Billings, you had to walk the knife’s edge of assertiveness and obeisance. Too little assertiveness and Billings would have no respect for me. He’d give me a poor grade just for appearing weak. Too little obeisance and Billings would feel threatened, and again, his punishment would be a bad grade. No matter how stellar your work, a guy like Billings lacked the self-confidence to grade on the project alone. How much he liked you or thought you liked him would weigh just as heavily as your actual work.

“That your independent project?” Billings tipped his head toward the bound paper portfolio I still had my hand resting on. We both knew it was. Another dick power move from Billings.

“Yes, sir,” I responded promptly and then slid it over to his side of the desk. I sat back and placed my hands on my outstretched legs, feet planted shoulder width apart. My stance conveyed that I was confident in my project, but Billings made no move to take it. Instead, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers together as he rested his elbows on the desk. Interesting. He was fidgeting.

“You familiar with TempChat?” He said finally, after a few moments of indecisive silence. Indecisive on his part. I sat without fidgeting, outwardly relaxed. Inwardly I was alert and ready for an attack.

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t use it, I said. Tempchat was a popular social media platform for mobile devices that allowed users to exchange private messages that deleted themselves after they were read. The temporal nature of the social media platform allowed for a lot of activity that wouldn’t take place on a public site. I’d heard of everything from guys and girls exchanging nude selfies to drug deals and prostitution taking place on the service.

“What if I told you that TempChat was going public in a few months?” Billings was overly animated. The pulse in his neck was bouncing against his skin and there was a slight flush creeping up his neck. I tried to guess the source of his excitement.

“And you have the opportunity to buy in before the public offering?”

Billings grinned and pointed his finger at me. “Exactly. You are so goddamned smart, Jackson. That’s why we make a good team.”

I had exert conscious effort in order to suppress my surprise at Billings’ declaration that we were a team. He was my professor—my advisor—and I was the student. That wasn’t much of a team dynamic. Billings was unconcerned by my silence. Leaning farther over the desk, so far that his body was practically horizontal to the wooden surface, Billings crowed, “Do you know how much an individual stock share will be after the IPO?”

I hazarded a guess but undervalued it, knowing that this would provide Billings the opportunity to spout off his knowledge of the market. “The last valuation of TempChat was in the billions when Facebook tried to buy it, so close to two-hundred dollars or so?”

Billings sat back hard, the chair’s metal pieces clinking against each other, and he flung his hand at me. “That’s a gross undervaluation. Twitter stock started at twenty-six dollars and then ended at forty-four on the closing day. Facebook. Heck, when UPS went public, everyone from the mailroom to the boardroom made millions.”

Millions. A kernel of envy rose inside of me. The problem with being poor wasn’t that you couldn’t work hard and make money but that these types of ventures were out of reach for you. A person who could buy a few thousand shares pre-public offering could stand to make a killing, but the only people that got offered that opportunity were investment bankers, venture capitalists, and people who had a lot of money already.

I could take my savings, sell my franchise, and offer up all my winnings, and Grace and I would be set for life if I had this opportunity. I’d be able to buy a house on the North Shore that’d make her uncle’s house look like a shack. I’d be able to walk into any store or restaurant and people would know instantly that I was someone of worth just by the cut of my clothes and the leather of my shoes.

I’d never be the poor kid from the west side of town whose mother was dead and whose father drank his food stamps. My stomach cramped as that kernel of envy grew, wrapping its green vines around my innards and squeezing.

Billings leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the dark beanstalk that he’d planted inside me. No, that was unfair. He hadn’t planted it. The dark bean of envy and want had been planted when I was born. All my life I’ve been battling it. His words were just feeding it.

“Millions, Mr. Jackson,” he murmured, almost to himself. He rolled his head toward the window so that I couldn’t see his eyes. “Most of the time, opportunities to buy in at this level, to help fund the capital of the public offering, aren’t offered to peons like us, Jackson. They are for the people who already fly private jets and who are building rocket ships for fun.”

“Most of the time,” Billings had said. What was he hinting at? “Most of the time, sir?”

My response was apparently what Billings had been waiting for. He turned around, facing me full on. His eyes were glittering and the flush had spread across his entire face. “Yes, Mr. Jackson. Most of the time. What if I told you that I had an opportunity to buy some shares of pre-IPO stock?”

“That’s tremendous,” I said evenly, despite the green vines of envy threatening to choke my blood supply.

“You need money to buy in, and unfortunately I don’t have all the funds that I need.” Billings tapped his hands on his desk in restless agitation. I waited for him to continue. “I’ve had a little run of bad luck with my finances. I won’t bore you with it, but suffice it to say I don’t really have the ready cash to buy in at the level I’m required to, and banks don’t lend money for investment purposes like this.”

Clarity rushed in like a cool breeze, chasing away the envy and bringing in a good dose of trepidation. What Billings’ finances had to do with me, I wasn’t sure, but I knew it couldn’t be good.

“You’re fighting on New Year’s, right?”

“Yes, I’m winning on New Year’s,” I responded a bit cockily, but I felt the ground underneath me was shifting and needed to exert myself a bit.

“I looked up the odds on your fight. You’re the favorite.” Billings looked me up and down like I was some kind of merchandise he was evaluating.

Immediately, I knew what he was suggesting. He wanted to bet against me and have me throw the fight. Standing up, I grabbed my pack. “Congratulations on getting the opportunity to buy into TempChat. That’s pretty awesome. Take a look at my work. I think you’ll be pleased at the thoroughness of the feasibility study. The shop I purchased is making a decent profit, and I hope to open at least two more in the next six months, one down here by Central.” I shouldered the pack and stood by the chair, ready for my dismissal. I wasn’t throwing any goddamned fight so that this yahoo could make millions. Maybe I was ruining my grade here, but fuck me. If he thought I was some stooge, he had another thing coming.

“What if I told you that I’d offer you a percentage of those shares?”

“Sir?” Against my will, I stayed and listened to Billings’ offer.

“You help me get my money for the buy in, and I’ll let you have ten percent. The money you make from that will make your little shop look like pocket change.” He gestured rudely toward the independent project that I’d spent hours on.

“I don’t think I can help you,” I said. I wanted to make money, but I wasn’t going to sell my soul for it. I did not throw fights, ever. I wasn’t even sure I couldthrow one. Once I got inside the Octagon, every instinct inside of me roared to dominate, and my body didn’t quit until it sensed submission. I turned on my heel and walked toward the door. When my hand was on the doorknob, Professor Billings’ voice stopped me.

“Your GI Bill requires you to have a passing grade, correct?”

“Yes,” I responded warily.

“In fact, I read that you had to pay back money if you failed?” Billings’ voice was full of disdain now, his true feelings for my scholarship status showing through. Central College was filled mostly with rich kids. Kids like Grace whose family came from money already. The ones who were invited to participate in capital projects for start-ups that netted them even more millions.

“That’s right.” I bit my cheek to prevent myself from turning and yelling at Billings.

If I could crumple metal, the door knob would be in pieces. As it was, I’d probably have the imprint of the ball in my palm for days.

“This company may be bought before it goes public. Once it does, the stock prices will shoot through the roof. You’ll earn millions. Be a shame you didn’t pass this class then. It might even affect your scholarship status.”

“I can’t see how I wouldn’t pass, I shot back. “The independent project required me to determine what would be the most viable franchise in the city. I chose a high-margin, low-personnel business in a high-traffic area. The profits from that space per square foot are higher than every franchise in a ten-mile radius.”

I tasted blood in my mouth, and I took a minute to lick the wound and swallow the blood. “It’s already making money, and it has been since I bought it.” Then, almost recklessly, I charged ahead. “I can’t imagine not receiving a passing grade for this project, and if I did, I’d have to consult with the dean about the fairness of my grade.”

Dr. Billings laughed at me, one part nervous, one part mocking. “I know you aren’t averse to getting your hands dirty…literally. All your previous fighting wasn’t on the up and up. Don’t think I don’t know how you funded the purchase of your little project.”

“I’m not interested,” I told him flatly, but in truth my heart was pounding hard.

I heard the scrape of a chair as Billings stood. I turned to face him. His face wasn’t just flushed now, it was red. “You are a goddamned redneck charity case. Your kind doesn’t belong here, and the dean would agree with me. We take on shit-ass war mongers like you to allow the administration to preen about its devotion to veterans, but the truth is that not one of us can stand you and your kind.”

It was one thing to insult me and entirely another to insult the Corps and the men I served with, the men who died for this fuckstick. “You’re lucky that me and my kind are willing to die so that you can gamble away your cash and still have an opportunity to make money in a stock market that is supported by the sweat and blood of my brothers,” I seethed.

Billings wisely stood behind his desk. The physical barrier wouldn’t be too difficult for me to cross, but it served as a reminder that I couldn’t strike this person, although every nerve in my body wanted to. I held my clenched fists against my side rigidly in hopes that my self-control would hold and I wouldn’t spring across the room and end him.

“You think about this, Noah Jackson,” Billings spat at me. “I’m offering you an opportunity of a lifetime. Throw one little fight, and you’ll be a millionaire. It’ll be your only opportunity to sit with your little Central College friends and feel like you belong. Otherwise, you’ll always be the dirty kid from the wrong side of the tracks looking up at everyone else. It’s not like you haven’t been willing to do illegal things for money before.”

I didn’t give Billings the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I turned and left without another word. But his parting insults pounded in my head. I had fought illegally for money to buy the franchise. He was just verbalizing everything I had ever thought before. I wasn’t good enough for Grace, and I wouldn’t be good enough until my bank account stood up to her uncle’s.

Want Chapter Two? I’m going to send it in the newsletter tomorrow. 

Charlotte Chronicles VIII

In case you missed it, I have a lovely story of Noah and Grace that will be published in an anthology called Snow Kissed.  The anthology will be released on December 20, 2013.  Unfortunately it might not be available on Kobo or iTunes because both those retailers are closing down their self publishing portals (where authors upload their books) between December 20 and January 2.  It will be available from Amazon, B&N, Smashwords, and All Romance eBooks. I’ll do everything I can to get it uploaded before then but I also want to make sure the end product is good enough for you readers.

You can add Snow Kissed to your Goodreads shelf.  The anthology will be 99c and will contain three different stories that have never before been published.

Reindeer Games by Jessica Clare

When mouthy Luna is voted off of Endurance Island: Alaska first, she’s a little bitter about it. The only thing that assuages her pride is knowing that Owen(the sexy-but-douchey guy that ousted her) was out next. This means, unfortunately, that they’re spending a lot of time at the Loser Lodge together. But will their fiercely competitive natures bring them together for the sexiest Christmas of all?

Undressed by Jen Frederick

Noah and Grace’s happy ever after hits a stumbling block in the form of one shady professor threatening Noah’s scholarship eligibility. Noah is given the choice of throwing his New Year’s MMA fight for a big payoff or accepting that the true meaning of love isn’t measured by the thickness of his wallet but the depth of Grace’s big heart.

The Sound of Snow by DS Linney

Widowed billionaire Gabriel Trentham never expected that the new nanny he hired would be the same woman he spent an unforgettable night with six months earlier. She’s determined to keep it professional between them now, but will a blizzard provide him the opportunity he needs to change her mind?

 

***

Charlotte

Nate is lounging against my locker after last period. His one foot is braced behind him against the metal while his other leg supports his weight.  Claudia Amsden is sidled up next to him so close I wonder  if I could fit a piece of paper between the two.

I grimace, slightly disgusted with myself for caring. Not only has my illness made me weak physically but I am now weak mentally. Before getting sick I wouldn’t have given Claudia  second thought. She would just be one more girl who liked to kiss up to Nate in hopes that he might ask them out which hadn’t ever happened to my knowledge. Nate and Nick didn’t do girlfriends. I teased them once that they were saving themselves for marriage but dropped the subject after the two exchanged looks I couldn’t interpret. Nick muttered something like, “Don’t need to” but he clammed up after Nate punched him in the shoulder.

Nick was probably alluding to the fact that they just messed around with girls but didn’t want the hassle of a relationship but I pretended ignorance. All three of us got along better that way. God forbid I bring up any three letter words to them like BOY or SEX. They’d both turned pale. Well, Nick turned pale and Nate got red in the face and gave me a long lecture about how none of the guys at North Prep were worth my time of day and how I had to wait until someone special came along like our moms had waited for our dads.

I yelled at him that he was being sexist because our dads certainly didn’t wait and honestly how did we know our moms waited. I never had that talk with my mom and I can’t see Aunt Grace busting out with “Like a Virgin” with Nick and Nate.

We may have continued arguing but Nick, the peacekeeper, made a joke about how we were both so full of air we could float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. After that, none of us talked about girls or guys with each other again.

As I get closer I can see Nate’s expression and it is not a pleased one. Whatever Claudia is saying isn’t something that Nate wants to hear. Perversely this makes me happy and I want to give myself a mental head slap for being such a jealous twit over nothing.

Nate sees me and pushes away from the lockers and Claudia. I’m not moving fast enough apparently because he hurries down the hallway to grab my arm. Claudia gives me the same pitying look that she pinned on me in the bathroom. The one that says poor Charlotte, can’t even muddle down the hallway by herself.

I jerk my arm away from Nate which causes me to stumble. “Hey, I got you,” Nate says and pulls me to his side. I’m awash in both frustration and happiness. Frustration that he thinks I need help and that he may be right and happiness because I’m tucked against his side.

I wonder if radiation has totally screwed with my brain and I will no longer be able to think rational thought again.  Resigned I allow Nate to lead me down the hall. “Thanks Claud,” he says as we pass her. He has one arm angled across my back with his hand curled at his waist. This is the embrace that girlfriends and boyfriends enjoy and for a tiny illicit moment I allow myself to think of what it might be like to be Nate’s girl.

My fantasy is interrupted when he stops at the girls and boys locker rooms. “I don’t need to go to the bathroom,” I hiss mortified.

“I know.” He looks both ways and then pulls the door of the boys’ locker room open.  “Incoming,” he yells. “Cover up.”

There’s a rustling of activity and metal clanging against metal as I surmise that guys are dressing or, as Nate ordered, covering up. “What are you doing?” I gape at him.

He gives me a quick smile but it dies almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Claud told me you were puking up a storm today.”

“That little—“ I don’t finish my statement. Instead I am turning to the door to chase Claudia down and give her a piece of my mind but Nate’s hands take hold of my shoulder.

“Look, I know why you’re trying to hide this. You think if our parents know that you’ll be yanked out of school and put in some special treatment program, maybe in Switzerland.”

My mouth drops open. “Have you heard something?” I ask. Fear is making my heart rate pick up. I wasn’t aware that Nate knew of my mom’s desire to take me out of Chicago, out of the country.

“Only that it’s an option and we all want to make sure it’s an option that doesn’t become necessary.” Nate stops talking and leans toward the interior of the room. The clanging noises have stopped. “All good?” he calls.

“Yup.” It sounds like there is more than one guy in here. I’m so embarrassed.

“Nate, I can’t be in here.” I’m feeling queasy and it’s not due to my condition. Perhaps other girls would love to be in the boy’s locker room but for me it’s a kind of stinky and I don’t want to see a bunch of my classmates’ underwear or worse. I’d never be able to look them in the eye again.

“Yes, you can.” He drags me into the room. Along the way I see several guys who give Noah chin nods and questioning looks but no one stops him. Maybe girls in the boys’ locker room is ordinary occurrence.

We stop at the end of the locker room where there is an office door that says “Head Coach” and then another closed door that says “Training Room.” Nate opens the training room door. Inside are two metal long metal tables. Nate curses when he sees the bare tables. “Hold on,” he says and then leaves.

I stand there like a fool, wondering what I should do. I don’t really want to walk out and see things that should be unseen but I don’t want to wait around until someone who is supposed to use this room shows up.

I’m about to leave when Nate returns, shouldering his way in, his arms full of clothes and towels.  He gives me a frown when he sees my hand on the doorknob and I guiltily pull it away. Curiously I watch Nate spread out the materials. There are a couple of pairs of workout pants, the kind that have snaps on the sides so that the players can quickly disrobe. Stripper pants, I liked to think of them although I’m sure if I said that to any of the guys they’d give me deeper frowns than the one that Nate shot me when he returned.  Nate carefully positions the pants so that there isn’t much overlap. Over the pants go three large sweatshirts. When he’s done, he pats the table. “Hop up.”

“What?”

“Hop up,” he repeats.

I stand there like a dummy because I don’t get what he wants me to do. Nate shakes his head and in two steps reaches my side and propels me forward. “Charlotte, you spent your lunch hour vomiting, right?”

I really hate Claudia. She must have been in there the whole time and then ratted me out to Nate.  “So what if I was?” I sound snippy but I don’t even care one bit.

“So you’ve got to be worn out. You go home and pass out, our parents are going to suspect something. Work with me here,” Nate pleads. Understanding dawns. Nate wants me to take a nap while he practices football and he hopes the extra sleep will make me appear healthier at home.

“This is really nice of you Nate, but you don’t have to do this for me. I’m fine,” I lied giving him a big smile.

“Charlotte, stop. If I was sick wouldn’t you do anything you could to make me feel better, help me heal?”

I give a reluctant nod of my head.

“Then why is it pity or wrong for me to want to do the same for you?”

Shamed I look down at the bed of garments that Nate had spread out. My throat tightens at the gentle care he’s showing me. Not wanting Nate to see me cry, I climb onto the makeshift mat and immediately I am struck by how very tired I really am. My whole body seems to loosen up. Nate lays two towels on top of me like a blanket.

“We’ll get some better bedding in here for you,” he murmurs, stroking the side of my cheek with one long finger.

“How will you keep this a secret?” I close my eyes and revel in the sensation of his caress. I don’t know that he’s ever touched me so tenderly before.

“Only a few guy’s know and they don’t have any call to rat us out.” His voice is sounding further and further away.

“I love you Nate.” I whisper as I let go and let sleep take me away. I dream that I hear him say “I love you” back.

As always, if you sign up for the newsletter you’ll get an entry in the Charlotte Chronicles in your inbox a week ahead of time!

Last day of the blog tour and another big giveaway

Give Me Books has a Tribute to Men in Uniform Christmas Giveaway. There are a number of great books available, more than 100 individual prizes. Check it out.

Additionally, the Last Hit giveaway will end tomorrow. Hit any one of the blog stops below to enter our giveaway which features books, swag and a $100 GC. Special Thanks to The Rock Stars of Romance who made this all happen.

2Bookaholics also did a review of our gunman/innocent garm girl love story. Thanks Jammie!

This book was beautifully written, at first it was a little hard to get Nikolai’s dialect down when reading but after awhile it just flowed so amazingly. I don’t personally think this story would have been as brilliant without that part. To really make you understand things from his POV what his thoughts and feelings where, even if they came out wrong. And oh boy some times they did. I guess it was really innocence of his thoughts and feelings that were so beautiful.

Kelli at Alphas Author Books Oh My blogged that she liked the heat but had some problems with wanting more action. We appreciate Kelli sharing her thoughts and posting about the book.

First Class Books said Daisy and Nikolai were a perfect fit in an unobvious way.

The Pages Turn, Chapter Break, Dirty Books Dirty Boys, Made for You Book Reviews, Perusing Princesses, Reading My Escape, Rookie Romance, Sarah’s Bookshelf, SMI Book Club, Sugar and Spice Book Reviews, BiblioWhore, Must Read Books or Die, Read This Heart That, Room With Books, Xscape from Reality, Books Over Boys for posting about Last Hit.

Preppea at I *heart* Bookie Nookie News writes “I would highly recommend LAST HIT for anyone who enjoys a sexy bad boy that just needs the right girl to show him he does indeed possess a heart.”

Liezel at Liezel’s Book Blog added that she “loved the suspense and pacing and also the character building in this story.”

Lara at Mean Girls Luv Books said such nice things about the book that she can’t really be a mean girl:

There is a very charming quality to these two and in their interactions with one another. Neither knows how to be with someone in a loving, committed relationship. Nick is almost as innocent as Daisy in many ways. Not only is there a sweetness and tenderness to them, there is an intensity that lures you into wanting more. Nick is possessive of Daisy right off the bat, he only wants to keep her safe. Normally this would drive me crazy, but Nick has never come across a woman like Daisy who is so in need of love and protection BUT also holds her own, she tells him no, she tells him exactly what she wants…she sees him. It makes the way he handles her with care endearing.

Cruising Susan reviews says she’s going to read Last Hit over and over. I can get behind that.

I would call Nick a loyal and gentle warrior giant. Why do you ask? When I think of a warrior giant, I think of a man who is fierce, protective, and will go to the end of the earth to love and protect the one he is destined to be with. I think of a man that loves that person with such passion that it could ignite flames. That is exactly who Nick is. He is also a kind and loving teacher to Daisy. When you read Last Hit, you will understand why I compare him to a teacher for Daisy.

The Romance Evangelist reviewed Last Hit.

Still, Nikolai and Daisy both know that all they really have is each other, and even with brief moments of doubt, it’s truly their love that gets them (and us) through all that follows. There are extreme moments of violence and that might make this book not the best choice for everyone. But the romance between this hero and heroine was so fascinating and irresistible that I couldn’t stop reading Last Hit until I knew that their happy ending was guaranteed

Random Musesomy writes:

This is a fast paced action packed story. Daisy and Nick are so similar yet so different. She is as innocent as he is worldly, but they both have had to live their lives very carefully. Hidden in plain site fighting the fears that were not always of their making.

Court at Love N Books thought

Overall, the plot was very good and the characters were well written. I truly enjoyed the secondary characters and felt they added to the story too. I think this is a book that many will enjoy.

Books, Coffee, Wine gave this a 5 star review:

Jen Frederick and Jessica Clare bring you a whole bunch of suspense along with some steamy hot sexy scenes- you feel how Nick feels, you feel how Daisy feels- the details of the Ukrainian Mafia is real- and you take yourself on a journey like no other…

 

 

And last but not least is Michelle’s review at AllRomanceReviews. I know that this book was a little outside of Michelle’s normal read so I appreciate her giving the book a chance. Michelle loved Daisy and even bestowed the Fabulous gif! Loved it.

 

 

Thank you to everyone who participated in making Last Hit a success. We’ve ordered the the proof and hopefully will have print copies available soon.

 

A great giveaway and a thank you for the rest of the blog tour

Author Elyssa Patrick (she wrote the New Adult Stay With Me featuring a fabulous hero, Caleb, and the teenage movie star who tries to break away from her past and an upcoming holiday duology, Holiday for Two) is hosting a holiday giveaway. Check out the great prizes!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Today’s gorgeous graphic comes from Louisa M.

Thanks to Once Upon Dream Reviews, Shhs Mom’s Reading, The Book Blog, and Flirt Reader for helping to get the word out about Last Hit.

Book Breath Babe. So glad you enjoyed the book, Kristi!

At Dirty Girl Romance, I had a hard time scrolling down from the banner. Wow.

Fikes put together a whole page for us.

Hesperia Loves Books says:

I highly recommend this book. It is written from both characters POV’s and the reader has a better understanding of the characters lives. The book is charged with suspense, highly emotional and has the reader wanting the “bad guy” to have his happily ever after.

Sassy Girl Books wrote that the book was worth the angst:

Together they made sense. Maybe the morals were a bit fast and loose, but again normal is just a word to them. They will create a world together that not only allows them to grow and thrive but gives them the love they both so desperately want and deserve.

Ripe for Reader is a Canadian. We like it up there. She wrote in her review

The large lines in this story paint a gorgeous contrast between dark and light and a compelling story of redemption. The details, the intricacies of the growth of both main characters and the development of their relationship against the harshness of the environment that fosters a killer for hire, and the careful manoeuvring required in that world, is drawn together in a smooth and flowing writing style by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick. This is an UN-PUT-DOWNABLE book!! And I am so looking forward to the next one!!!

T and A After Dark enjoyed the awkwardness of our couple. Yes, Nikolai and Daisy were like two discards from the Island of Misfit Toys.

What I loved most about this story is that it’s so different from everything else out there. It’s dark and sometimes sad, but the unconditional love between Daisy and Nick is beautiful. I loved the way the author wrote Nick’s words with an accent. Their flirting was so cute because neither of them had any idea how to do it.

The To Be Read List says

When I read a book, it’s all about how it makes me feel and how drawn I am to the characters. Jen & Jessica create a lovable killer in Nick. How is that even possible??? I think the dual POV has a lot to do with it. If I wasn’t in the mind of Nick, I’m not sure I’d feel as strongly as I do for his character – don’t get me wrong, he’d still be irresistible, just in a different way. He’s a killer, but the way he’s written makes you see WHO he is and not WHAT he is – it’s actually quite remarkable. Nick’s beautiful, confident, and always in control, but the fact that he has no idea how to pursue Daisy is so unbelievably sweet. His awkwardness with words around her just made me want to jump in the pages and give him a big hugs of encouragement. And, there is just something about Nick’s broken English that makes it adorable and endearing.

Sizzling Pages Romance Reviews is another blog with a hot header. Get a damp washcloth and proceed carefully.

A mark watched, a love found and a man that needed to feel the love that only one woman could completely give to him.. This story was not only of love, but forgiveness, healing and how the power of unconditional love can repair the most hardened of hearts..even a trained killers.. I loved this book and recommend it to readers of not only NA but thrillers and darkened romances.

We told Booze Bookz and Boyz that we weren’t big drinkers but they enjoyed the book anyway!

Daisy is completely inexperienced in the sex department. But her deep attraction to him doesn’t let her shy demeanor hold her back. Of course, Nikolai has had many women in bed and wants Daisy. But how he really wins me over is his patience with Daisy. He knows she is not like all the other women he’s been with in the past and he takes his time with her. He teaches her what to do and how to ask for what she wants. It made me swoon all over the place. The authors spare no details when they describe the scenes. They’re so provocative and emotional.

The Book Whoreders Delight was happy that we used real words for the sex organs. I’m inserting manroot somewhere in Last Breath and dedicating it to them!