by Scott, D. D.
WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies
Summer Fling
D.D. Scott, Cynthia Woolf, Lois Lavrisa, Lisa Scott, & L.C. Giroux
Copyright © 2012
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Smashwords Edition
Contents
WELCOME TO THE WG2E ALL-FOR-INDIES ANTHOLOGIES
FLUID FULFILLMENT
NOTE FROM D. D.
FLUID FULFILLMENT
ABOUT D. D. SCOTT
Full Bio
Turnabout Twist
About Lois Lavrisa
Tame a Summer Heart
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
EPILOGUE
About Cynthia Woolf
Wild Child
About L.C. Giroux
Hot and Bothered
About Lisa Scott
WELCOME TO THE WG2E ALL-FOR-INDIES ANTHOLOGIES
(SUMMER FLING EDITION)
When just a little over one year ago, I brainstormed The WG2E – The Writer’s Guide to Epublishing – the destination site for all-things-Epublishing, I never in my wildest, most spectacular dreams imagined I’d end up creating a site which now gets over one million hits per month and is the first visit of the day for over 3500 Indie Epublished Writers and Authors!
At The WG2E, it’s all about finding ways to Pay It Forward, both to our fellow writers and to all our superfab readers too.
We simply luuuvvv treating readers to great books for great prices and helping our fellow authors find new readers around the globe.
With this Fourth Edition of our WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies, we’re treating you to a terrific, one-of-a-kind approach to the anthology concept.
You’ll get a variety of genres all packaged together as a wonderful way to discover authors new to you and a variety of story lengths – from short-shorts, to short and novella length too!
In addition, each WG2E Anthology is based on a different theme, and we’re over the moon to offer you unique perspectives on these superfab fun themes.
Here’s what we mean by that…
In our WG2E Summer Fling Anthology, we’re treating you to stories that yes, have a Summer and/or At The Beach element, but you’ll never think of Summer or The Beach in quite the same way.
For example:
“What if Victoria’s Secret meets Kill Bill…in The O.C.?” for D. D. Scott’s FLUID FULFILLMENT
“Will this hot and humid Savannah night save a young couple’s love…or end it?” for Lois Lavrisa’s TURNABOUT TWIST
“Will two lovers’ troubled pasts be too much for their summer romance to overcome?” for Cynthia Woolf’s TAME A SUMMER HEART
“With the help of a barely-there bikini, could a super steamy PI assignment turn into something more?” for L.C. Giroux’s WILD CHILD
“How about a summer romance she never saw coming?” for Lisa Scott’s HOT AND BOTHERED
Happy Reading and Welcome to our WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies!
The Best of Reading Wishes—
D. D. Scott
Co-Founder of The WG2E
P.S. Watch for The WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies Spooky Shorts Edition coming Halloween 2012 and the Martini Madness Edition coming for the 2012 Holiday Season!!!
FLUID FULFILLMENT
(A Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery)
By D. D. Scott
NOTE FROM D. D.:
Welcome to my Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries!
The Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries are a unique treat for fans of my Bootscootin’ & Cozy Cash Mystery Books and brand new D.D. Scott-ville Readers too. They’re short story-sized peeks into my collection of interconnected books.
Each Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery (short story) features at least one of The Mom Squad quirky-crazy, blue-haired Charlie’s Angels wanna-be’s!
You’ll get to meet their extended families plus learn the unique skill each Mom Squad Member has been trained-to by The Cozy Cash Mysteries’ Quarter Master R.
Fluid Fulfillment – Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mystery #1 -features Roxy’s mom Lily Vaughn, who first appeared in Bootscootin’ Blahniks – Bootscootin’ Book #1, and who some say is now fairly gifted in Jujitsu.
For Fluid Fulfillment, think Victoria’s Secret meets Kill Bill.
The Best of Ereading Wishes and Welcome to D. D. Scott-ville or Welcome Back! — D. D. Scott
FLUID FULFILLMENT
I’m Lily Vaughn.
Well actually, Lily Vaughn-McKinna.
By now, you know my Bootscootin’, apparel-designing-daughter, Roxy Rae. And you might also remember I’m recently divorced from Roxy’s dad Steve Vaughn, a globe-trotting gigolo who runs a fashion empire on the scale of Salma Hyak’s husband, Francois-Henri Pinault. What Francois does with French luxury brands like Yves Saint Laurent and Gucci, my ex does with Italian luxury brands.
I must say, during the years I was Mrs. Vaughn, I learned to run a cutting-edge, dynamite-and-then-some fashion empire, and I’ve now built the same for my daughter’s Raeve Boutiques. Think of us like the Vaughn version of the Kardashian’s Dash stores. I’m Roxy’s business manager, AKA the Kris Jenner of my daughter’s international fashion empire.
But this isn’t my only job…or what they call a gig out here in LA.
I’m also a member of The Mom Squad, a slightly older version of Charlie’s Angels, who fights international crime along-side one of Roxy’s BFFs and Hollywood stylist to the stars, Zoey Witherspoon.
Actually, we fight crime with Zoey, now the Duchess of Caserta, and her husband the Duke of Caserta, Prince Roman Bellesconi Umberto-Vittorio EmanueleVanvitelli of the Royal House of Savoy.
And yeah, what a mouth-full, right?
But anyhoo…
Why aren’t you reading about the Duke and Duchess or their Bootscootin’ BFFs?
Well, trust me, we Mom Squad Members cause plenty of our own mayhem.
Take my brother Wayne McKinna, for example. Wayne is waaay over his older-guy-but-still-perfectly-fit head and body, and in super-deep Dutch with the Hollywood mob, thanks to another Mom Squad wanna-be…our Aunt Dodie.
So with the Duke and Duchess on stand-by, ready to assist as soon as my stubborn brother admits he needs them, we’re hunting down the Hollywood mob.
Here’s the scoop…
* * * *
As I stood in the doorway to my brother’s office, I still couldn’t imagine him behind Uncle Lewis’ dark cherry desk. But there he was. Wayne McKinna…in his Southern Cal, golden boy flesh.
Okay…back-up a minute.
I suppose I can’t ignore the obvious. Now that Wayne and I are both in our late 60’s, I suppose he looks more like the dashing and mysterious Sir Sean Connery in his legendary Louis Vuitton ad.
Golden Boy or Sir Connery, either way, Wayne was trying to get comfortable in Uncle Lewis’ leather chair. He tipped back the chair then kicked up his legs but couldn’t seem to let them relax over the edge of the desk.
I k
new he was craving his beat-up metal desk with the perfectly etched coffee rings, not the slick, cool glass that covered Uncle Lewis’ pricey antique collector’s piece.
Wayne just didn’t belong in this decorator-perfect room, marking up the rugs and the once clean surface of Uncle Lewis’ desk too, with his old, chipped coffee cup. The usual streams of messy spills were now sloshing over the top and running down the sides.
Hell, he didn’t belong here period!
Nothing about Deville 1300 Inc, a manufacturer and distributor of ladies’ intimate accessories, was related to my brother. Or to me.Except the owners.
Childless, Uncle Lewis and Aunt Dodie had always looked after us with great pride. There were no boundaries to their affections. For that reason, they’d been kind enough to allow Wayne to set-up this farce of a job in order to accomplish the objectives of his real occupation.
But honestly, Aunt Dodie also thrived on helping Wayne with his career as a private investigator. She did have the eye, actually the nose, for his line of work. And on many occasions, she had helped him find the missing pieces of cases that had, up to that point, eluded him.
In fact, it was her good-natured meddling that was simultaneously indispensable and irritating as hell.
But despite our closeness to Lewis and Dodie, we would never have asked to use their company as a false storefront.
And yes, I most definitely said ‘we’.
Actually, Aunt Dodie and I had formulated the plan as a way for Wayne to appear to be settling into the neighborhood. We had reasoned with him that by accepting an Inventory Manager position at Deville, he’d have the cover he needed to find the person his latest client had hired him to locate. And since the person he had to find was also one of Deville’s best customers, Aunt Dodie and I were basically geniuses.
In the meantime, I’ve gone from helping locate missing cozy cash, in my Thug Guard and Lip Glock adventures, to now searching for missing people.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I may have gotten my nose for trouble from Aunt Dodie’s gene pool. But regardless, she had asked me to come home and help her with this job, so here I am.
Besides, I’ve learned a whole new repertoire of investigative skills, thanks to Roman and Zoey and Roman’s QuarterMaster R, and I am rather anxious to try them out.
Wayne pulled his Mac from its silver case and positioned it in the center of the desk. While he waited for it to power-up, he flipped through the paper file he always created on each new client.
Of course, Aunt Dodie and I had already snuck into his briefcase and perused the file, so we knew exactly what it contained.
Luke Branson’s press shot slid out of the folder and onto the glass.
Wayne searched the man’s face as if his intense study of it would cause the turd to appear right here in the flesh, ready for interrogation.
After adding Luke Branson to my Turd Roster, I couldn’t help but harrumph all to myself. I just love our Cozy Cash Adventure terms. For example, there is “vic” for victims and “perp” for perpetrators.
But by far, my personal favorite is “turd”, the name Roman, Zoey and R use for the money-hungry thugs we’ve been busy rounding-up. And wow, after spending most of my adult life on the posh Upper East Side of Manhattan, I’ve sure never been able to spout-off about turds.
Now then…back to our current turd on the loose.
Luke had the dark features of an Italian god. His black hair cascaded down around his shoulders in the first photo, but was severely pulled back in the second shot. In both, his raven eyes bore holes right through you.
The photos offered no room for misinterpretation. Luke Branson was a force to be feared, and he wanted anyone looking at him to have no doubts they should be afraid…very, very afraid.
Luke was a highly successful movie producer. Well, that’s what his tax forms stated.
But Wayne’s instincts were just like Aunt Dodie’s and mine, which meant, when it came to the Hollywood Film Industry, we all registered flashing yellow lights. The Industry was often nothing more than a glistening cover for sinister, underworld crime empires.
Although we currently didn’t have enough information to substantiate our gut feelings, we knew it was only a matter of time until we did.
Throughout his ten-year career as a Navy Seal, Wayne had learned to trust himself. After another ten years as a Private Investigator, his gut instincts were golden. He’d only been hurt when he had not listened to those inner signals. He’d been hurt once. And he refused to up the count.
As for Aunt Dodie, she was always right-on…about everything. The woman was just that damn smart.
Me? Well…after Thug Guard and Lip Glock Mom Squad Duty, I was catching on fairly quick. Too bad I hadn’t caught-on at such a super swift speed regarding my marriage. I should have dumped that bastard decadesago. Oh well. Live and learn, right? And besides, now I’m having a grand time playing Charlie’s Angels.
Setting Luke’s pictures aside, Wayne removed a brown envelope from the pocket of his briefcase then shoved the empty case under the desk.
Popping the clasp of the envelope, he turned the package over and spilled its contents. The items that tumbled out onto the desktop may be all he knew about Kit Branson, but Dodie and I had a wee bit more up our Raeve-designed sleeves.
Deciding that now was as good a time as any to make my presence known and butt-in where I was about to prove I belonged, I walked on into Wayne’s temporary office.
“So I hear Luke hired you to find Kit and bring her back to their North Whittier Drive estate?” I asked.
“That he did, Lil. Interesting the schmuck couldn’t pinpoint the exact day he’d noticed she was missing,” Wayne said, tapping his well-used pencil against the top of Luke’s file.
I knew from what Aunt Dodie had told me that Luke had insisted to Wayne that he’d been the model husband to Kit. Unfortunately, he stated, as a result of her precarious mental state, Kit had convinced herself that Luke was a danger to her and had fled their home.
“He says he only called me to appease Kit’s assistant who was worried that she’d had no contact with her for several days.”
I bet he did, I thought, taking a seat in one of the two ornate chairs Uncle Lewis kept in front of his desk.
“The bastard told me that, after trying to explain Kit’s absence around Tinsel Town, he was becoming something of a social pariah. He claimed that he loved her and had tried to understand her complexities, but could no longer be bothered to tolerate her disloyalty and disregard for his needs.”
“Aunt Dodie said Luke believes Kit may be here in the Playa del Rey area,” I said, getting a feel for just how much Wayne was going to tell me versus what he had no idea I already knew.
“Yeah. Apparently, the jetty bordering the marina is one of her favorite places,” he said, with a rather surprised look on his face.
Since Wayne had claimed, as his primary residence, the boats he kept in the same marina protected by that jetty, he was probably wondering how he’d failed to notice a woman as gorgeous as Kit.
Chewing the wood casing of his pencil with the relentlessness of a beaver constructing a dam on a deadline, I knew my brother was completely absorbed by Branson hypotheticals.
When Aunt Dodie came barreling into the room, he didn’t notice. But the second she dropped a large box onto the corner of the desk, he jumped-up from his seat with the instinctive reflex of a soldier who was about to be ambushed.
“What’s this?” He asked.
Watching the two of them interact, I couldn’t help but be amused by Aunt Dodie’s ever-expanding roundness compared to Wayne’s organically-fed and well-fit physique. And although I worried that Dodie wasn’t doing her health justice with the added pounds from her sugar addiction, I worried Wayne would OD on wheat grass shots and RhusTox pellets.
“I thought it might be a good idea for you to get to know the products you’re now in charge of tracking,” Dodie answered, in-between ragged breaths, with a br
oad grin slowly forming across her lips.
“This ought to be interesting, Auntie Do,” I said, hardly able to stand it until Wayne opened the box of intimate goodies we’d thrown together as a little initiation of sorts.
“Some of it, you might not be familiar with. We have added a couple of new lines,” Aunt Dodie said, followed by a soulful laugh.
Wayne pulled a red thong out of the box and yanked back the thin strap like a bow, as if he was going to fling it across the room.
“Thanks for your concern, but so far, so good.”
“Oh, really…?” I couldn’t help but ask between giggles.
Wayne’s crooked grin befit a fox as he held up a black leather bustier.
“Mmm. I believe I’ve handled these before too.”
“Glad to hear it, Romeo. But we’ve saved our best for last.”
Aunt Dodie produced one of Deville’s bras from the box then placed it over Wayne’s monitor.
We both studied our prize pupil’s puzzled expression.
“It’s a water bra. We call it Fluid Fulfillment. Better study up on that one. We have many young ladies stopping in to try them out. I do expect you to assist our Customer Service Rep. After all, your Mrs. Branson is one of our best customers.”
