“Take your pick,” I shrugged, shifting my gaze towards the circle of Firehouse 56 crew members who were standing in a circle around the punch bowl. “I’m pretty sure they’re all single…”
“Really?” Summer asked in disbelief. “All of them?”
“I believe so,” I nodded. “And I’m sure they’re all dying to meet hot, blonde business-owner…”
“What about him?” Summer pointed to a guy dressed in black, who was standing by himself in a far corner of the salon.
“Oh, that’s Duke,” I said. “Josh’s old roommate.”
“He’s cute--” before Summer could even finished the statement, a blonde swirled up next to Duke. We both watched as his hand snaked around her waist and he dipped his lips close to her cheek, whispering something.
“Ok, so Duke might be preoccupied at the moment. But don’t worry,” I nudged Summer’s arm. “There are still ten more to choose from.”
Summer was already one step ahead of me, feasting her eyes on the rest of the crew. I was still watching Duke. The blonde looked familiar so familiar…
Duke reached down and took her hand, then led her across the salon floor. The blonde pointed her face up, and I caught a glimpse of her.
Brie! My jaw dropped as I watched Duke lead Brie towards the supply closet at the back of the salon, then slip inside.
Holy shit, I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. I have to tell Josh!
“You have fun,” I told Summer as I slipped away. I made my way through the party, greeting the mix of clients, guests, and friends as I went. Finally, I found Josh in the crowd.
“Hey, Pinky,” Josh grinned, planting a soft peck on my cheek. “I think Thomas has a new best friend.”
“Oh really?” I crouched down and pressed my lips against our son’s forehead, leaving a soft ring of red lipstick. “Who’s your new friend, Thomas?”
“Cousin Claire,” Brady answered, swinging around to reveal the bundle of pink blankets in his arms. In the center of the blanket cocoon, there was a tiny pink baby face, Claire Hudson.
Cassidy had given birth to their daughter a week earlier, and today Claire was making her big debut at the salon opening.
“She’s gorgeous,” I gushed, admiring the little baby girl.
“Luckily she looks just like her mother,” Brady grinned proudly.
“My mom thinks that she looks like you,” Cassidy insisted.
“How is Mrs. Laurent adjusting to becoming a grandmother?” Josh asked. Mrs. Laurent was Cassidy’s mom. Last year, she had beat cancer…which might or might not have had something to do with Brady and Cassidy’s quickie summer wedding.
Mrs. Laurent was also a longtime mother figure to Brady and Josh both, and she treated Thomas as if he was just as much her grandchild as Claire was.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Cass suggested. “She’s right over there.”
I flicked my eyes around to see Mrs. Laurent. The older woman had found her place in the center of the circle of Firehouse 56 crew members, and she was in the middle of telling a joke that had the entire group doubled over with laughter.
“She’s the life of the party!” I grinned. It was good to see Mrs. Laurent doing so well. There was a time, not too long ago, that she was so sick that she could barely get out of bed…
Now, she had made a full recovery. In fact, I had her on the books for a haircut next week; her first official cut and color treatment since she had regrown her curly hair after chemo.
“Speaking of grandparents,” Brady said. “Are we still meeting the Colonel for family dinner tonight?”
“We are,” Josh confirmed. “I just spoke with him on the phone this morning. He can’t wait to meet Claire!”
I smiled again. Weekly family dinners had become a new Hudson family tradition. We all got together -- Josh, Brady, Cass, Thomas, and I -- and brought dinner over to the Colonel’s house. Tonight, there’d be a new addition to the weekly dinner date, baby Claire.
“Let’s go get my mom, before she tries hitting on Troy,” Cass joked. She dragged Brady towards the group of Firehouse 56 crew members, leaving Josh and I alone.
Suddenly I remembered my morsel of juicy gossip, “You’ll never guess who I just saw slip into the supply closet with Duke,” I hissed eagerly, widening my eyes.
“Let me guess…” Josh said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Umm…Brie Wallace?”
“What?! How did you know? Did you see, too?”
“I’ve been waiting for something to happen between those two for months,” Josh said. “Then again…she could just be helping him wax his chest.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing as I recalled the story that Josh had told me about Duke’s chest waxing debacle.
I glanced up at Josh, and suddenly I forgot all about Duke and Brie and the supply closet.
“Hey,” I said. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”
“Of us,” he corrected me.
“None of this would have been possible without you,” I reminded him. “You made my dreams come true…”
“I was just returning the favor,” he grinned. And despite the red lipstick I was wearing, he kissed me right on the lips.
Hi Beautiful,
Thanks for reading February Burning, my second romance novel. If you want to know more about me, you can join my publisher’s fan group on Facebook here. I stop in sometimes and visit.
You should also sign up for my newsletter to get a preview of March Heat, the next book in the series. I won’t email you about anyone else’s books ever. Just me and you. I can’t wait to show you more.
Until our next happily ever after,
Chase
Baby Makes Three
A Brother’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby Romance
By Nicole Elliot
Hi Kittens!
What would happen if you started dating your brother’s best friend? Joanna is about to find out. Things get especially hot when she finds out her crazy ex is in town… and she’s pregnant.
This one is all about the drama!
xxx
Nicole
CHAPTER 1
Joanna
Sometimes love hurts, or at least that’s what I told myself. Lies. I told myself lies. They were the only thing to get me through the day back then. When things were bad. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
But it could.
And it would.
The hour was late, the rain was heavy, my cell phone battery was dead, and my tears were even more difficult to see through than the rain. A part of me felt that I should have waited until morning to make my move, or at least waited until the storm was over. But the survivalist in me knew that the storm inside of that apartment would never end unless I physically removed myself from it.
Sometimes it felt impossible to recall the earlier days. Zander had been such a sweetheart in the beginning. But I supposed a lot of them were like that, all smiles and charm in the beginning, and then a living nightmare once they believed their target was in too deep to get back out.
In my case, I guess I had officially gotten in too deep when I decided to move in with Zander. I hadn’t even known him that long at the time. But, I had honestly thought I was in love. I had thought we were in love. So young and naïve, I’d been fully under the impression that I had never cared about anyone so much, and that I would never have those kinds of feelings for another man as long as I lived.
I had believed that Zander and I were soulmates.
I was wrong.
The first few months of dating had been like something straight from a fairytale. I had been so smitten and amazed to think that I had somehow miraculously stumbled upon my very own real-life Prince Charming. He was handsome, romantic, and always seemed to know exactly what to say and do to sweep me right off my weary feet.
Thus, moving in with him had seemed like a no-brainer.
Unfortunately, shortly after, all the trouble began.
/>
It was subtle at first, like the small romantic gestures slowly starting to come to a stop. I wasn’t getting surprised with flowers quite as often as before. Zander didn’t cuddle and kiss me as much. The cute pet-names ceased. He didn’t plan as many fun date-nights and activities. I had chalked it up to the honeymoon phase of our relationship coming to an end, but never once did I consider that Zander didn’t still love me the same any longer.
But then the arguments started, growing in ferocity each time they occurred. I started to notice how Zander would constantly criticize me and every little thing I did, from complaining about the way I did the dishes, to throwing fits if I left a wet towel on the floor after getting out of the shower, and not approving of the way I made the bed because I tucked the sheets too tight. Then he started telling me that I needed to change the way I looked and dressed…
Nitpicking, which eventually evolved into full-blown power struggles.
Control.
But I kept dealing with it because I thought I loved him and that we would eventually wind up married, raising a family, and living happily ever after. I kept telling myself that rough patches happened. They were normal. All couples had them, and the persistent couples with strong love for one another moved through them.
And then, one day, he hit me.
The first time he hit me was a day I would never forget. He had been working late, but had come home even later due to going out for a night of binge-drinking, a habit I hadn’t been aware he possessed until after moving in with him and finding empty bottles stashed around the apartment.
That particular day, when he had finally made it home, there had been a strange feeling in the air. It was exceptionally muggy, and hard to breathe. When he stepped into our apartment, his mood had seemed to suck out what little air we had.
He had gone straight out to the balcony, overlooking the distant streets and palm trees. He stood there, perfectly still, for a long time. I’d crept up behind him, sensing that he needed to be comforted.
“Rough day? Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, only to have him huff and sneer in return. “How about we go out for dinner?” I suggested, hoping it would take his mind off whatever was bothering him.
“You should have cooked for me already,” he had responded, like I was his personal chef or something. “Is it asking too much for you to have a home-cooked meal waiting for me every once in a while?”
I automatically blamed his attitude on the bad day he’d obviously had. So I had simply cleared my throat and calmly explained that I also worked and therefore didn’t have time to have dinner waiting for him. After all, I had only gotten off work a little while before he had.
“I don’t want any of your excuses,” he had spat in response. “Just get in the damned kitchen and cook me something.”
It had been hard to make excuses for him after that. I had been so stunned that I had laughed in disbelief. Not finding my laughter amusing, without warning Zander had painfully gripped me by the arm and literally dragged me into the kitchen, where he then proceeded to open the refrigerator and work himself into a rage about not having enough food stocked. He pulled out frozen meat from the freezer and threw it at me, just barely missing my face with a pound of ground beef.
His hand, however, didn’t miss my face.
“Stop it! What’s wrong with you?” I had screamed. Two seconds later, I was staggering across the floor from the backhanded slap he landed across my face. Every time that memory resurfaced, I could still feel the terrible stinging across my left cheek.
When the whole ugly ordeal was over, Zander had apologized profusely. He had even shed a few tears, insisting he hadn’t meant any of it. He’d sworn that it had all been stress, and that he just hadn’t been in his right frame of mind. Afterwards, he had hugged me so gently, I couldn’t believe he was the same man. He kissed my cheek repeatedly, made love to me, and ordered me the biggest bouquet of flowers, reverting right back into the guy I had originally fallen in love with. Not before long, I had almost convinced myself that I had only hallucinated him hitting me.
But in due time, that other side of Zander resurfaced. Yet I had been too weak to not fall for his apologies. Furthermore, every time he promised not to lay a hand on me again, I believed him, until the next time.
My patience eventually grew thin, as did my ability to forgive. Consequently, Zander had come to underestimate me. I wasn’t nearly as weak as he once knew I was. I had come to realize that I deserved better than the life he was forcing me to live. I had too much respect for myself to keep letting him put his hands on me whenever we disagreed about something. I refused to be the victim.
Although my eye and jaw still throbbed from Zander’s fists, my heart had stopped aching over him long ago. I wished it hadn’t taken me so long to reach this point, but it was better late than never.
Our last argument, it had been so stupid. This was partially because he’d been drunk, but that was nothing new. Once again, he had come home late, filthy drunk as usual; how he never managed to crash his car and kill himself had become an endless source of frustration for me.
This time, he threw a fit because I hadn’t set the DVR to record one of his favorite television programs that I didn’t even know he watched.
He landed one good blow on me, hard enough to make stars dance in my eyes. But I fought through it, staying conscious and managing to dodge the second strike. Staggering through the apartment, I grabbed my car keys and my cell phone before bolting from the apartment, not caring about the roaring thunder and bright lightning flashing through the sky. I just wanted to get out.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t had time to charge my phone battery before leaving, which resulted in me having to make a stop at the nearest gas station in the pouring rain, hoping the old and outdated payphone located there still worked.
“Good evening, ma’am,” the store clerk said. I hurried inside, keeping my head low despite knowing how odd I looked wearing sunglasses during a thunderstorm. Even though it made me look suspicious, I was grateful for the fact that I always kept a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment of my car.
“Is everything all right?” the store clerk asked, although he could clearly see that I was far from it. Glancing briefly up at him, I saw that he was a kind looking older man with white hair and concerned eyes.
I fumbled inside of my pocket and pulled out a wrinkled dollar. “Can I please have four quarters?” I asked, my teeth chattering thanks to the rain clinging to my skin, chilling me to the bone.
“Yes, certainly,” he said, retrieving the change from the cash register.
I could sense that he wanted to say something else to me, but I hurried back out the door, not giving him the opportunity. When I reached the payphone, I dialed the first number that came to mind.
“Hello?” came my brother’s voice. Already I could hear concern in his voice, as if he somehow intuitively knew it was me. My big brother had always been protective of me, and I sometimes suspected he possessed a sixth sense that let him know whenever I was in trouble.
“Tobias,” I choked out.
“Jo? What’s wrong?”
“Zander…”
“What did he do? I’ll kill him.”
I sniffed loudly and took a deep breath. “Don’t be ridiculous. What good will you be to me if you’re in jail? I just want to leave him… I can’t deal with this anymore.”
“Did he hit you?”
The long pause was more than enough confirmation for what had happened. Tobias began to swear and call Zander every offensive name in the book. “How many times has this happened, Joanna? How long have you been dealing with this and not telling anyone?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’m dealing with it now by to leave. Look, I know this is asking a lot, but I just need a place to stay until I get back on my feet again.”
“Then come over,” Tobias said. “Pack your bags and get the hell away from him immediately. I’ll lend you however
much money you need, you know that.”
Yes, I knew that all too well. Tobias was well-off, too well-off for his own good. He was wealthy, and his solution to all problems was to throw money at them; it was a strategy that had worked well for him for years though, so I couldn’t exactly fault him for it. But, it wasn’t my preferred way of dealing with problems. If being with Zander had taught me one thing, it was that I didn’t want to ever depend on a man for anything, even if it was my adoring older brother. I wanted to have my own money and make my own way.
“I don’t want your money, Tobias,” I said. “I just want you to give me a spot to rest my head until I can find another job and get my own place.”
Tobias sighed. “Joanna, you’re my sister. It’s my job to look out for you.”
“To look out for me—yes. To take care of me—no.”
“Let me just lend you the money and you can pay it back when you can, then.”
“Tobias, please, I don’t want your charity.”
“Why are you always so difficult?” he said, exasperated. “All right. Fine. How about this, work for me.”
I paused. “What?”
“Work for me. You can work for my firm. You’re looking for a new job, right? So I’m offering you one. With your background in financial planning, we really could use someone like you, sis. And I’m not just saying that. We’ve actually been looking to hire someone for a while now.”
I chewed my bottom lip, considering his offer.
“I know you can’t think of a valid reason to turn me down,” Tobias said, “so just say yes. What do you have to lose?”
“Nothing,” I said quietly. “I have nothing to lose.”
“Then welcome to the team. Pack your bags tonight and make your way over here. And if you really want to do me proud, you’ll burn down Zander’s place in the process.”
I chuckled through my tears. “Thank you, Tobias.”
“No problem..”
I hung up the phone, feeling some of the tightness in my chest starting to loosen. As I made it back to my car, I reflected on Tobias’ offer. It was a good solution, and I had a feeling it would work…
February Burning: A Firefighter Secret Baby Romance Page 20
