Six Shades of Romance

by Darling, P. K.

  Six Shades of Romance

  Romantic Comedy by P.K. Darling

  Paranormal Romance by Darby Briar

  Erotic Romance by Lee Moore

  Chick-Lit by Jamie Campbell

  Historical Romance by Andrea R. Cooper

  Contemporary Fiction Romance by Kate McKeever

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form without the prior written permission of both the author and the publisher.

  Six Shades of Romance

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by lillithc

  lilithc1625@hotmail.com

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

  www.polgarusstudio.com

  Table of Contents

  Who’s the Daddy? by P. K. Darling

  Waking Caroline by Darby Briar

  Summer House by Lee Moore

  Heartfelt by Jamie Campbell

  The Proxy by Andrea R. Cooper

  Secret Passions by Kate Mckeever

  One Last Thing…

  Who’s the Daddy?

  by P. K. Darling

  Caroline used to think life was simple – get a successful career, a man who wants the same things you do and then you will have the key to happiness. The problem is ten pregnancy tests later, Caroline has a rude awakening when not only does she find out she has an unplanned pregnancy but she has no idea, Who´s the daddy? Caroline sets on a quest to find out if it´s her long-term boyfriend, Steve aka the ´idiot´, his nickname by all her friends and family or her ex, Paul who set her free to pursue her career in London. Find out the truth in, who´s the daddy?

  Knocked Up

  “Shit, I’m knocked up.”

  “What, you had an accident?”

  “No, yes, I mean no…”

  “Which one is it Caroline? Not only do I have a horrible hangover, but it’s too earlier for mysteries What time is it?”

  “7am, that`s beside the point; I’m pregnant.”

  “Seriously, you couldn’t have waited till at least 10am to tell me this? We just came home at 5am.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, waving my hand up and down.

  “If you know then why did you wake me? Besides: where’s Rachel?”

  I began to sob on Sophie’s bed and she wrapped her arms around me. I couldn’t believe it, ten pregnancy tests with the same result. Each week I’d been buying them, I didn’t realize I had so many until this morning. The evidence was clear, there was no turning back. “99% accurate” the pack said.

  Hmm, could I fall into that 1%?

  “You said you were sick and on antibiotics and that’s why you couldn’t come out with us.”

  “I am,” I cried, “I am.” She wrapped her arms even tighter around me. God, she stunk. I’m surprised she made it into her bed. She must have been wasted. I heard all the noise they made when they came in.

  “You just said you’re pregnant, so I assume that’s the reason you couldn’t go out?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, being on antibiotics is like being pregnant because you can’t drink.” I cried even louder than before. I was pregnant and she was trying to find out why I didn’t go out. What does it matter?

  “Oh, hello…” a voice at the side of the bed said.

  Who the hell is he? Now, I think about it, why is Sophie nude? She never sleeps in the nude. Fuck, no, that’s what got me in this mess in the first place. It all makes sense why she was making so much noise when she came back. She brought a guy with her.

  “Sorry, I’ll go to my room,” I said, standing up and heading back to my room. It wasn’t even my room. I had crashed for the night. I lied to Stevie and told him I was going out with them. Then, at the last minute, I lied to them and said I was on antibiotics and couldn’t go.

  “Yes, I think that’s a better idea. I’ll come to your room in a bit,” Sophie whispered with a wink. “As soon as I figure out who this guy is.” she added as I left, trying to get close to the stranger in her bed.

  I was sure that the guy heard, but I doubted that he cared. He simply rolled up to the side like a baby and carried on sleeping.

  I needed to get back into my room and think how this happened and who the bloody father was.

  Steve

  “How can I face him?” I asked Sophie as she came into the room fully dressed. She managed to get rid of the mystery guy and was still unable to recall his name.

  “Who?”

  “Steve.”

  “Oh, him…”

  She hated him from day one, the first moment I introduced them I could see the hate in her eyes. When I told her that we were having troubles I thought she was going to have a party. She had spent the last five years telling me that I was too good for him. Then again, so had mum and pretty much all my family and friends.

  “That is the last thing that you should worry about. What’re you going to do?” she asked possibly regretful about showing her hatred towards Steve.

  “Dunno,” I shrugged, because I really didn’t know. I wasn’t sure whether to tell her the truth or not; whether I should confess. I always confessed to Soph, like when I copied her French essay (I’m shit at French) and we both got a C, or the time I kissed the boy she fancied (I fancied him too) or the time I stupidly put a fag in my bin at home and told my parents it was hers. For some reason they always thought Sophie was up to no good, including her parents, but compared to me she was an angel.

  We had known each other since secondary school. We both graduated at the same time and went to the same university in London, where we were roommates. Then, after graduation, I started working for an IT Consultancy. I met Stevie and then moved in with him. She said we moved in together too fast, but we were in love. He was perfect in every way. We had the same interest in IT, life and everything else — no marriage, no kids, just us.

  Our relationship soon soured. He began to spend most of his time out, whilst I spent most nights in waiting for him to show. He lost his job and it hit him hard. One night he nearly hit me, which is when I moved up North to stay with mum — to the place I grew up, before my family moved to London when I started secondary school.

  After graduation Sophie got a job as a PR Executive, then as a Manager. She loved it. Seeing everyone partying made her start partying too, she claimed that she was making up for all those years of being a square. She was no longer the boring fart and had become the dancing queen of London.

  According to Sophie I used to be like that before I met Steve, then I changed and became boring. I stopped going out, stopped being interesting. I cut off most of my friends and even tried to cut-off Sophie a few times, although not intentionally, when you’re with someone who demands all of your time and attention, you don’t realize that you’re doing it until it is too late.

  She said that if things ever got tough with Steve, I could stay with her. That ended up happening a lot. She never asked any questions and she was always there for me. A shoulder to cry on, someone to kick me up the backside and hold my hand when I was about to fall.

  Gosh, if she was a bloke, I would do her!

  She was a true friend indeed.

  “Are you listening?” she asked as I was sitting on the bed gazing out of the window at the Thames.

  “Sure, sorry, I just can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I. In all honesty, I’m a bit disappointed…” she said, placing my hair behind my ears and stroking it. We often did that to each other in times of comfort, she would brush my long blonde hair or I would brush her brunette hair, depending how
the other one felt.

  Her mum used to do it to her when she was a little girl, she tried it once on me and I loved it.

  As she brushed my hair she continued to speak, “I mean, why would you produce a replica of Steve? We don’t want another Steve on this planet. I can’t think of anything worse.”

  I sat in silence and listened to her harping on about Steve. That was the last thing I was worried about. What about work? What about my career? What about my house? What about mum and, most importantly, what about Paul?

  “What you thinking?”

  “I can’t stop worrying, that’s the problem. I am an emotional wreck. It all makes sense now…”

  “What does?”

  “Why Faith went bonkers when she had Michael.”

  “Seriously?” she asked, moving her face closer, her bright blue eyes staring at me.

  I nod.

  “Forget about her, she was bonkers before she got pregnant. So, the million dollar question: are you going to keep it?”

  “Of course. I mean, I don’t know.”

  “Oh,” she said, no longer brushing my hair. I could feel one hand holding my hair and the other resting on my shoulder.

  “I need to think.”

  “I thought it would be yes, but I can understand if it is a no. You know what’s really weird? I don’t know where Rachel is?”

  “You tried calling her?”

  “No,” she said, reaching for the phone by the side of the bed. She dialed her number and looked at me; studying me, trying to figure out what was going on inside my head. As the phone rang, I felt uncomfortable about her stare. She wouldn’t be able to understand if it was a no, she didn’t have a clue how complicated it really was and would be if the answer was yes.

  Home

  Home is where the heart is, so they say. I left Sophie’s house and made my way back. I jumped in a taxi as I was too distressed to even think about driving. Sophie offered to take me home but, even though she appeared sober, I wasn’t sure and I declined.

  We found Rachel in the end, she was stuck between the wall and the side of the sofa. We ran to where her phone was ringing and she didn’t budge. We were worried that she was dead — how much can one person sleep? It was like a scene from The Wizard of Oz, when they found the wicked witch’s shoes by the side of the house and knew that she was dead. That was all we saw of Rachel — her shoe just sitting on the sofa. Sophie puked up twice while offering to give me a lift home. If I did let her drive me it could have been a messy ride. I gave her a kiss goodbye after she begged me to stay another night. I felt more at home at hers than I did at my own home.

  When I arrive home I noticed that the curtains were drawn which was strange considering it was only two in the afternoon. I paid the taxi driver and walked up to my front door. When I opened the door I was hit by the stink of sex.

  Apparently, the sense of smell increases during pregnancy. I read it on the Net on a subject entitled: What do you gain from pregnancy apart from weight? One lady replied that when it comes to your sense of smell you can smell like a dog.

  I drew the curtains, letting in some light One of the things I hated about this house is that there was no hallway, so as soon as you entered the front door you were in the lounge.

  Did Steve have an orgy or something? As the thought rolled around my mind the answer was apparent immediately. I saw him stark naked on the living room sofa with his legs up in the air.

  “Steve, Steve, what the fuck are you doing?”

  “What you’ve been doing all night,” he said, staring at me like I was a complete stranger.

  “What?” I asked, shaking my head. If only he knew what I had been doing all morning.

  “Come on, you’ve been distant. Then you say you had to go and stay at Soph’s. Every man knows that’s a cover up for an affair. I mean, what’re you doing back so early?”

  Seriously, he is questioning me? He’s been sleeping around and he’s questioning what I’m doing home?

  “I fucking live here, you twat.”

  “Do you? Do you really?”

  I wished I was drunk, because the conversation was really confusing me. I could hear whispers and I became conscious that I forgot to shut the front door. Mrs. Meldrew was outside with her crew, looking up Steve’s assets.

  As they recognized that I was staring at them Mrs. Meldrew said, “I knew he was small, that’s why you haven’t got any children. Not capable with that little thing.”

  I turned back and looked at Steve’s dick, sizing it up. I shook my head when I grasped that this was a crazy situation, the old bits of the neighborhood were sizing up my boyfriend and I was agreeing. Maybe they were right, he was too small. I had never really thought about it.

  It had been so long since we’d had a passionate relationship that when we did have sex I just lay there and dreamt of Paul and that night. That one wonderful night that was probably the cause of my current crisis.

  Can you figure out if a man’s fertile by the size of his dick? Nah, well, maybe you can. Maybe figuring this thing out is easier than I thought.

  “Where are you going?” Steve asked as I wandered up the stairs.

  “None of your business, I need to get my laptop and check something on the net.”

  “Brilliant,” he said as I ran up the stairs.

  I needed to figure out if it was true. If so, it would be a lot less complicated than I thought.

  Size of Dicks

  As I searched on the net Steve walked in and disturbed my research. I wish he’d leave, but I knew he would stick around and annoy me. He was good at that.

  “So, you come in, saw I had sex with someone and it doesn’t bother you?” he questioned, hovering near the desk.

  I managed to switch pages before he saw what I was researching.

  He has a point, have I totally lost the plot? I mean, I was upset for all of five-seconds and now I’m not really bothered.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” I shout, looking deep into his eyes.

  The dreaded affair he had when he lost his job and couldn’t find work. This one drunken night he spent with his secretary was my trump card. It was mentioned every single time he pissed me off, from buying the wrong take-away to stealing the remote control.

  We’d gone from having everything in common to having nothing in common. The more I thought about it, Sophie was right, why were we still together?

  “Oh, that…” he said, showing no remorse for the first time.

  “Well, now you have two of them to bring up, every time you feel the need. I think, no I know it’s better if we separate for a while. Since I lost my job, things have gone from bad to worse. Maybe it’s better if you move out.”

  Now, he was really irritating me, “Me?”

  “Course.”

  “What about you? You have your Mum, it’s not like you’re working…”

  “You really know how to stick in the knife don’t you? You can be such a bitch.”

  “Well, I learned from the best,” I shouted, pacing up and down the room like a crazy woman.

  The window was open and I could hear shouting on the street. I walked over to the window.

  “Leave him love, his dick is too small, we’ve seen the picture!” shouted Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Meldrew took a bloody photo and had shown it to all the neighbors who were nodding in agreement about Steve’s shrunk pride and joy.

  He walked up behind me. “What are they talking about?”

  “Nothing.” I quickly shut the window before Mrs. Meldrew or any of the others shouted at him. Oh my gosh, the humiliation. First Borough Street and then the whole of London Bridge will know about the size of his dick. I glanced back out of the window. He was right. I needed to leave but I was still not sure.

  Why should I? It’s my house.

  “Why am I leaving and not you? You’re the one not paying the mortgage… you’ve lost your job. You’ve got your brother you can stay with.”

  “Yes, but he�
��s in Fulham and they have kids. Big brother would be sleeping on the couch.”

  “Or, you could go to your Mum.”

  “I need space. I can’t deal with the pep talk on why we should split up. That’s all I ever hear.”

  “From your Mum?”

  “No, Dad. He’s always saying that you’re a bitch and I should leave you.”

  “Your Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, maybe because every time he tries to pinch my bum, I slap him.”

  “Why do you always make up stories?”

  “Why do I put up with your shit?”

  “So, you’ll leave and stay with Sophie, right?”

  I was about to question him again when it dawned on me that all the time he had been packing my clothes. I watched him walking back and forth from the en-suite to our bed, packing my suitcase.

  I wanted to scream and shout at him. It wasn’t my fault that his Dad was a pervert. This was a prime example of our relationship. He never listened, I used to tell him about his Dad with his hands all over the place and Steve used to say it was my fault for flirting too much.

  Who would constitute buying a birthday present as flirting? Only Steve, Sophie was right, he is an idiot. All I could think about was that he was an idiot with a small penis.

  I needed to get back on the net and figure this thing out. As soon as he finished packing my things handed me the suitcase. I grabbed my laptop and ran down the stairs, picking up my car keys. He was running after me and as he approached the front door he asked, “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss then? When do you think you will come back?”

  I slammed the door in his face and hopped into my Golf with only one thing on my mind, Are men with small dicks impotent? As I reversed out of the drive I saw Mrs. Meldrew and the rest of them cheering, waving me goodbye.