by Aidy Award
Chase Me
A Dragons Love Curves Novel
Aidy Award
Coffee Break Publishing
Denver, CO
Copyright © 2017 by Aidy Award.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Coffee Break Publishing
www.coffeebeakpublishing.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com
Chase Me/ Aidy Award. -- 1st ed.
ASIN 978-0-0000000-0-0
A wedding planner, Ciara Mosely-Willingham is mistaken for a thief by a treasure hoarding dragon shifter, Jakob Zeleny. He kidnaps her and tells her he'll keep her until she returns his items. He's obviously insanely attracted to her and she's surprised. But he's pretty damn hot himself.
Contents
Chp 1 – Ciara Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride
Chp 2 – Jakob A Whole New World
Chp 3 - Ciara, Dragon’s Lair
Ch 4 – Jakob send Steele takes Ciara to the dungeon
Ch 5- Ciara, learns magic
Ch 6 – Jakob, battle demon dragons
Ch 7 - Ciara attacked
Ch 8 – Jakob sex
Ch 9 – Ciara,
Ch 10– Jakob You Belong to Me
Ch 11-Ciara, the AllWyr
Ch 12 – Jakob, midpoint sex
Ch 13 – Ciara
Ch 14– Jakob, Rug pull
Ch 15 Ciara, back to America without Jakob
Chp 16 – Jakob black moment
Chp 17 – Ciara black moment and ally
Ch 18 – Jakob, goes after Ciara, she’s attacked
Ch 19 -Ciara, Battle
Chp 20 – Jakob After math
Chp 21 – Ciara, HEA
Dedication to a lot of really Amazeballs people
Here there be Dragons
―Really old Maps
ARC
Dear Reader,
If you’re seeing this message it means that you’ve gotten an ARC (Advanced Reader Copy) of Chase Me.
On one hand that’s pretty badass because I usually only give ARCs to my special Amazeballs and Connected Curvies on my review team.
But, on the other hand. You probably thought you were getting the for sale, commercially ready version of this book.
One of two things has happened.
Either Amazon screwed up – or I did.
I always upload an ARC copy of the book during pre-order so the correct page count shows up on the book description and because I’ve heard horror stories of authors uploading an unfinished version of the book and Amazon accidentally not uploading the right file for sale.
You and I might be in the middle of that horror story right now!
So, here’s the deal. The story you are about to read, and you should read it – it’s good – is the exact same story in the final version. There’s laughing, there’s crying, there’s more laughing, there’s dragons and curvy girls getting their happy ever afters on, and there’s allllll the feels. That’s what we read for, right?
Right.
The only difference is that this version probably (most definitely) has some typos, weird words that weren’t supposed to be where they are, commas all over the place, and other funny errors (funny like the kind that makes me cry, not funny ha ha.) Because this is the uncorrect proof that hasn’t been through the final, final, final, proofreader.
So, if you can overlook that to get into the good times in this story, by all means, read on!
But, if that kind of stuff bothers you, wait 24 hours, delete the book from your library and then re-upload it.
The updated and final for sale version of the book should be uploaded by Amazon by then.
Because I know, it’s sort of lame that this happened between you and I, I will give you one of my other ebooks for free to make it up to you.
Shoot me an email at [email protected] and I’ll reply to you with a free download of Curvy Seduction: Rebound, the first book in the Curvy Seduction series.
Lots of hugs and thanks for understanding this weird mess.
--Aidy
CHAPTER ONE
Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride
Agh. Ciara’s feet ached, her back was stiff and the headache she'd staved off with some ibuprofen four hours ago was rapidly creeping back behind her left eyeball. Nothing like the sweet pains of victory.
One more commission like this and she could afford to take that beach vacation she’d been promising Wesley for the past three years.
“Oh, Sarah, there you are.” The bride’s mother, who was reasons number one, two, three, and forty-three for said headache, waved her over. Mother-of-the-Bridezilla paid the bills, so Ciara pasted on her most helpful of smiles and greeted the table.
“Hello everyone. Having a nice time?”
Headache mom turned to the couple sitting next to her. “Bill, Khai, this is Sarah, the wedding planner. You simply must book her for your Linh’s wedding. She is the best, always available for her clients. I called her last week at two in the morning when I simply knew that Bethany needed to have three more wedding cakes at the reception. Sarah never says no.”
Oh, great. That’s what she wanted to be known for. The slut of the wedding planner world.
“Well, I like to hear that. We want our baby to have everything she wants for her wedding. No expense spared. Do you have a card, Sarah?”
“It’s Ciara actually, and yes, of course.” She handed Bill, who she could already tell was wrapped around his daughter’s little finger, a card. Bill handed the card to his wife. “Let me write your time and date on the back for you.”
She pulled a pen out of her kit. Always prepared, true to her Girl Scout roots. She scribbled on the back of the card.
“Ciara Mosely-Willingham. Do you own Willingham Weddings, dear?”
Sigh. Not yet. Not ever if her mother had anything to do with it. “That honor goes to my mother. Wilhelmina.”
“Ah, I see. Well, nepotism has its benefits.” The table all chuckled at Bill’s little joke.
Benefits schmenefits. If only they knew.
“I’ve got an appointment that just opened up for two weeks from Monday. Will that work to bring Linh in for a consultation?”
“Two weeks?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid the next available is in August.”
The couple glanced at each other. They were not used to waiting, patiently or not. Most of her clients weren’t.
“That’s almost three months from now.”
Headache mother raised a glass of champagne. “You wanted the best. Better get her while you can.”
Khai raised an eyebrow, trying to intimidate Ciara. Not gonna happen. Ciara gave the mother her award-winning, aka her account-getting smile.
Khai gave in. “We’ll be there.”
Bali with Wesley, here I come. If she could ever get him to ask her out in the first place, and in another three years when her schedule cleared up. Not that her mother would ever allow her to take a vacation, but at least now she had a plan to get tha
t date with the hunk of the office.
Ciara made her rounds, vying for a chance to run into Wes with the good news. News that should be celebrated, with a night on the town, a nice dinner, some satin sheets.
She checked in with the catering staff and found out he was in the kitchen. Wes in a perfect three-piece suit with the purple pocket square and matching vest just about took her breath away. How any man this good looking would be interested in her blew her mind.
By interested, she meant he flirted with her constantly at the office, but hadn’t ever asked her out. Ciara had made it perfectly clear she was willing and available.
He hinted, she smiled and nodded, and then nothing.
A girl could only wait so long for the man of her day-dreams to make a move.
“Hey babe.” He kissed her on the cheeks while holding his cell phone to his ear. “We’ve got a champagne shortage crisis on our hands.”
No need to stress. Cool, calm, and collected. Always. “No problem. I’ll bring in the secret back-up case I keep in my car.”
Wes hung up his phone and winked at the disheveled waiter with the empty tray. “Told you Ciara would swing some of her magic.”
He was such a sweet talker. She hoped he was a dirty talker too. Whoa, wait, down girl. She had to get a date with him first. “I’ll go grab it, but the bouquet toss is in a few minutes. Go chat up all the single girls and talk them into standing up to catch the bouquet.”
One wink or an eyebrow waggle from him and they’d all be smashing each other in the face to catch those flowers whether they wanted to or not.
“I’ll go get the champagne, you go catch the bouquet.” Wes shook his head and shivered.
Lot of bouquets were in her future, but not for catching. Always the wedding planner, never the bride. Yet.
Here goes nothing, or something, or gah, just ask him.
“Hey, I just landed the Barton wedding. We should celebrate.”
Wes grinned. “You are going to make us all zillionaires. I can not even keep up.”
Okay, this was going well. Ask him. “So, you’ll go out with me to celebrate?”
“You bet.”
He didn’t hesitate even a little. She should have asked him months and months…and months ago.
“Are you free on Wednesday?” They had weddings on the weekends, but she hoped she didn’t sound lame for suggesting a weeknight.
“Nope. But, I could do Thursday. Dinner, drinks, and I know the greatest place to go clubbing.”
Dinner, drinks, and dancing. Perfect.
She wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands.
Not appropriate.
Be cool.
Ciara drew upon her inner cucumber-ness. “Sounds great.”
Enough said. Right? Yeah, that was fine. She didn’t want to look overly enthusiastic. She’d save that for the in-bed portion of their evening.
Geez, she needed to get her mind out of the gutter. She’d gone from dinner and dancing to handcuffs and blindfolds in seconds. Oh, please let him be at least a little kinky.
“Ciara?”
“Yeah?” She blinked, still caught up in her fantasy sex life with Wesley.
“You feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”
She’d be fine and dandy if she could get the real Wesley into her fantasy life. “Yep. Great. Go grab that champagne and get it on ice.”
“You’re the best, you know that right?” Wes grabbed her in a bear hug and danced her around. He jerked back and rubbed at his chest. “Ouch, your necklace bit me.”
“Oh, geez. Sorry.” Ciara put her hand over the colorful pendant she’d gotten a few days ago. She didn’t feel anything sharp.
“Pretty but painful, doll.” Wes examined the charm, staring a scant inch above Ciara’s boobs. “It would go with everything. Where’d you get it?”
Damn. She’d kind of hoped Wesley had sent it. Not likely, but she was ever hopeful. Must be from her mother. Who rarely gave gifts. Weird.
“Oh my god, Ciara, there you are. I’m getting a divorce, or is it an annulment? Whatever. George is such an ass. I want out of this marriage right now.” The bride ran into the kitchen and faux collapsed into Ciara’s arms.
She glanced at Wes, who shook his head and smirked. He mouthed the words good luck and backed away from them.
This woman wasn’t the first newlywed to freak out at the reception and she wouldn’t be the last. But, Ciara had a long track-record of calming them down and helping them focus on what was important, their happy ever afters. Wesley called her the bride whisperer.
Ciara put a hand on the bride’s arm and sent all the happy calming positive thoughts she could muster. They took a deep breath together.
“You can do this. Everything is going to be fine.”
The bride nodded, looking a little dazed and repeated Ciara’s words. “Everything is going to be fine.”
A few hours later, the bride and groom were more than made up, the bouquet was tossed, the champagne chilled and toasted, the candles blown out, all topped off by the perfect sunset.
Wes escorted the last of the drunken groomsmen left at two in the morning to the limos they’d arranged to drive the non-sober home and Ciara collapsed into the nearest chair.
If she took her shoes off now, they were never ever going back on, but she’d limp home barefoot rather than take one more second in her not-so-high heels.
A lonely uneaten piece of wedding cake had been calling to her since she saw the fit groomsman walk away from it several hours ago. After that marathon wedding and reception she needed a good sugar fix.
“Stop right there, thief.” The deep rumble of a male voice stopped the fork midway to her mouth. Sounded like he was back for his sugar fix. Oh god. How embarrassing.
“I'm just doing a bit of quality control. Have to make sure the cake is up to Willingham Weddings standards.”
Please don't let him mention the fact that the wedding was over. Ciara turned to give the groomsman her best don't mind me I'm just the chubby, dateless, wedding planner stealing a piece of leftover cake smile. The man-slash-movie-star-slash-romance novel cover model standing three feet behind her had his arms crossed and a mad as hell glare on.
He wore a tight black t-shirt, dark jeans and a beautiful glowing blue crystal on a cord around his neck, so he wasn't the groomsman, or any other guest of the Ketcher-Fast wedding. She’d remember all that fantasy material.
He glanced down at the blue charm at his throat and stilled. He faltered for a second and had to grab on to a chair to keep his balance.
Great. Another drunk guest and all the limos were gone. No way was she driving him home herself. Hmm. Well, maybe. He was awfully sexy and all those daydreams she’d had about Wes all night suddenly starred this magnetic stranger.
Until he growled at her. “I don't give a damn about the cake, unless that is where you've hidden my goods.”
“Your goods?” The only goods Ciara could comprehend at the moment were six, or maybe eight, of the most beautifully defined abdominal muscles in the whole Four Corners.
He crossed the scant yard between them in two strides, hauled her up out of the chair, and got so far into her personal space bubble she could smell his cinnamony breath. A zing whipped through her from everywhere he touched and strangely, she really wanted to stand up on her tippy toes and press her lips to his, taste that spice, lick up every essence of that erotic flavor.
She might have too if he'd held her for a second longer. But, after searching her eyes, he released her and began pacing, prowling, around her, his eyes roving her from head to toe.
He might have the body of a god and she the body of a cupcake, but she would not be intimidated by wandering eyes. “First of all, you have to tell me what brand of toothpaste you use, and second, back up out of my business, buster.”
“Do not try to beguile me with your talk of hygiene products, your hair of gold, and your body made for sin. Where have you hidden my wyvern relic, w
itch?” He stopped circling and stared straight at her butt.
Body made for sin? Was he kidding? Body made of sins, maybe. Namely the sins of Swiss meringue buttercream, chocolate ganache, and too many I Love Lucy reruns. “Stop staring at my toukas. Whatever you're looking for ain't in there.”
She wiggled her back side to emphasize her point. That made her intruder damn irritated, probably that her rear wasn’t dropping any evidence of wrong doing based on the growl rumbling from his chest and his eyes glued to her ass.
“Stop enticing me with your curves, thief. You can not distract me from what is mine.”
Ciara cleared her throat, gently at first, but when that failed to bring his eyes up to hers, she about gave herself a sore throat trying to get his attention.
“Are you ill? I won't have you dying before you tell me where the statue is hidden.”
What an asshat. A cute one, but a real douchcanoe none the less. “I think maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot here.” Ciara extended her hand to him. “I’m Ciara Mosely-Willingham.” Her hand hung there for a full count of ten. “And you are?”
He recoiled from her hand. “Wondering what kind of spell you're trying to work on me. Whatever it is, I assure you I am immune.”
“I was trying to be nice, but I've had a very long and tiring day, so my patience is wearing thin. I don't have your thingy, I don't even know what a why Vern is. I thought for a minute I might help you try to find it, but I'm done now.” Ciara turned and began looking for her torturous heels. It would be much more fun to stomp off if there was some clack
“As am I. If you won't return what you have taken from me I will be forced to bring you before the AllWyr council.”
“What the hell?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the ball room toward a terrace. Good thing she'd already kicked off her shoes or she'd have been tripping all over her feet at the rate he was dragging her away.
