by Karen Anne
I looked at the ring, and then at him. Was this really my life?
“So, looks like you’ll have to slip away with me to London for a bit of a holiday this summer. Meet your new family. I was so hopeful you’d say yes, I already booked our flight.”
My head was swimming with excitement. David’s surprise had my heart soaring. “You’re taking me to London?” I asked in disbelief.
He tipped his head and brushed his lips against mine. Sparks flashed all over my body. Pure fireworks. “I plan on taking you everywhere, Mrs. Archer.”
Harry may have to face his demons, but his story isn’t over.
Find out what happens when he meets Brit’s Little Sister,
Tiffany, in the next book…. Toxic Kiss!
Keep reading for an exclusive teaser.
Toxic Kiss
Three days later, I was done with Hamlet and ready to move onto Macbeth. Not wanting to pay the outrageous prices of the campus bookstore for a battered copy, I got in my ice blue mini cooper and drove the couple of miles to Barnes and Noble.
Finding Macbeth fairly easily, I perused the aisles, fondling the books and smelling their pages like a perv. Books were my weakness. I had to control my urges so as not to buy them all.
Turning out of the general fiction aisle, I looked around to ensure no one was watching before swooping into the romance aisle.
Having virtually no love life of my own, a little fantasy wouldn't be the worst thing for me. Besides, book boyfriends were the best kind of boyfriend.
I found a steamy romance with a shirtless guy wearing a kilt on the cover. Yup, this would suit my needs nicely. Still reading the back cover, lost to the absurdity of how the highlander would woo the fair maiden, I walked out of the aisle and slammed right into another person.
My books fell on the floor as did the mountain of books that were in the hands of the man I collided with. Dropping to my knees, I felt like an ass as I picked up his hardcovers, blurting out, “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
He crouched down beside me. “It’s fine,” he said softly.
Stacking up the books, I handed them to him and almost died when I realized I had just bumped into Captain Jack, my crush from the bar. I had no clue what his name was so I had nicknamed him “Captain Jack” because he always ordered Jack and Coke—hold the Jack.
Of course I’d never called him that to his face. My ears felt hot, and I immediately averted my gaze so as not to make eye contact with his beautiful blue sapphires, guarded behind his black, squared glasses. “I’m really, really sorry,” I stammered again as I reached for my copy of Macbeth.
“It’s fine, it happens.” He was very relaxed, which made me feel even more clumsy and awkward. You’d never know I was once a graceful ballerina.
“I was just distracted,” I blurted out.
Captain Jack picked up my romance novel— the one with the guy who was probably terribly cold for the lack of clothing he had on.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He laughed, and I felt my cheeks burn bright red as I grabbed the book and placed it protectively against my chest, wrapping my arms around it as though I could undo what he had seen. At least cover boy was warm now.
Captain Jack pushed up his glasses in a way that was perfectly natural and highly attractive. Don’t do that! “Hey, you’re the bartender from the Den,” he said with the most adorable smile, his dimples flashing at me.
“Yeah,” I said, wanting the ground to swallow me whole as he officially recognized me. Now I’d forever be labeled as that chick who reads mommy porn and pours him soft drinks. Take me, God. Take me now.
He placed his stack of books on a nearby table and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name. I’m Harry.”
I felt my lips curl up into a smile. Harry. I had an urge to run to the Den to tell Iris my homework assignment was complete, and I actually knew his name. “Tiffany,” I replied, realizing his palm was touching mine as we shook. Iris was right. He did have strong hands.
I pointed to his stack of books, seeing titles like Mastering the Art of French Cooking. “Still working on that project?”
“Yeah, I started to doubt myself, so I just wanted to look at the classics. I mean you can’t go wrong with Julia Child.”
Not knowing anything about Julia Child or French cooking, I simply nodded. We stared at each other awkwardly for a beat. “Um… I was just going to check out,” I said, offering him a way out.
“Oh, me too.”
We turned toward the direction of the line, and it was so difficult not to grin like an idiot. After I paid, I didn’t know if I should turn and look for him to say good-bye or just walk out and pretend we had never spoken. I didn’t have to make a decision. He seemed to appear out of thin air, bag in hand as I was putting my credit card back in my wallet.
“So… the Shakespeare… is that for a class?” he asked, and my heart leapt at the thought that he was actually willingly talking to me.
“Uh, yeah. Sort of. I already read the stories on the list, so I’m just continuing with him because I enjoyed the others so much. So far Hamlet is my fave.”
“And you never read Macbeth?” The book was in the bag, and I was flattered he remembered the specific title. It felt good to know he was aware I didn’t just read naughty books.
“No, I read it years ago. I’m just rereading it.”
“Yeah, I liked that one in high school. The witches stuck with me. Maybe because they were cooking.” He winked and opened the door for me, and I thought I’d die right there.
We walked out into the parking lot, and I habitually started walking in the direction of my mini coop. Harry walked beside me, and I felt my stomach flutter as I realized he was walking me to my car.
That is until we both pulled out our keys and beeped our vehicles. My mini coop beeped as did the black jeep parked beside me. Disappointed, I turned to my door.
“It was really nice bumping into you,” I said and then felt my cheeks flush as that was literally what I had done.
Harry’s grin deepened, revealing those two dimples on either side of his smile. This couldn’t be real. He was too perfect. “Yeah, I’m glad you did.” He walked around his jeep and opened the car door. He was about to leave, and in a panic, I slammed the breaks on my heart. Forcing myself to have one second of courage, I stepped over to him.
“Would you want to go out for a drink sometime?” Why had I asked that? I wasn’t even twenty-one. It just sounded like the mature thing to do.
Harry paused and stuck his hand in his pocket as he leaned against the open door of his jeep. He reminded me of James Dean. If he had pulled out a cigarette in that moment, I don’t even think I would have minded.
“I don’t really drink,” he said with what I heard as a tinge of regret, and since I had pretty much abandoned all amount of self-respect, I stammered, “Right. The soda thing… How about coffee?”
Harry took in a breath and nodded, offering me a weak smile. “Sure. Why not?”
Oh god… it was a pity date… He was agreeing to one date so I could leave him alone, and he’d get in his car and drive away. Still, I couldn’t stop my pleas as I tried to remain calm in the face of anxiety. “I know this cute coffee shop on the other side of campus. It’s goth themed.”
“The Draught,” Harry said with a furrowed brow.
“Yeah, you know it?” I said, perking up.
“I know it…um, would you mind going to a diner instead?” My heart sank a bit. The Draught was where Brit worked, and I wanted her to meet Captain Jack.
“Yeah, yeah sure. I work Thursday through Saturday.” Aka, the three biggest date nights.
“How about Sunday afternoon?”
“Yeah, Sunday would be perfect.” I walked back toward my car and said, “Call me with the details,” as casual as possible as I hopped into the driver’s seat then pulled the door shut. I took a breath and started the car. Then closed my eyes as I leaned my head against the headrest. I had a date
with Captain Jack. Was this really my life? It took all the control I had not to dance in my seat.
There was a knock on the window, and I screamed. It was Harry, and once more, I had acted like a complete ass in front of him.
I lowered the window and placed a hand over my heart, which was pounding beneath my jacket, and looked at him with confusion. He leaned his arms on the door, where the window was, his hands folded together as they entered the space of my car, and tipped his head to the side. “You forgot something.”
“I did?” I asked, trying not to appear flustered even though his face had never been this close to mine before.
“You said to call you, but you didn’t give me your number.” My cheeks instantly heated, and I knew they were a deep shade of crimson. I fumbled in my purse and found a pen, but I didn’t have any paper. I was about to get out my receipt when Harry slipped his Julia Child book in front of me. “Write it in here.”
I took the book in my hands and flipped the book over to look at the area by the barcode where the price was. It was thirty-eight dollars. Whoa, talk about commitment. I hesitated. “What if you want to return it?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m not concerned.”
Nervously, I wrote my name and number on the inside flap of the heavy book. As I penned the last digit, I leaned my head against the headrest, realizing how stupid we both were. “I should have just texted you the number. Then we could have exchanged.”
Harry took back his book and looked at the number before closing it, then returned his gaze to meet mine. “Yeah, but sometimes the old-fashioned way is more fun. I’ll see you Sunday.” He tapped my car and turned around to head over to his vehicle. Only when he was inside with the door shut, did I properly exhale.
Coming 2018!
Acknowledgements
To my beautiful betas— April, Tiffany, and Alyssa. Thank you for your time and feedback. This book needed a lot of takes, and a lot of love. So glad we got it right.
To Kara, who edited this book twice because the first time was a hot mess and she still loved me enough to do it again— you are the best! Thank you for helping me get Kristen and David back together.
Finally to Kristen, who gave me her name, her looks, her talent, and her blessing to write a fictional story about my badass friend. Love you, girl. XO
About the Author
Karen Anne is the author of Death by Social Suicide and Brutal Love.
She loves strong coffee, cats, and deeply misses 90’s grunge.
Karen is also known as Kat Daemon, paranormal romance writer and lover of all things
dark and twisty.
You can visit her website at www.katdaemon.com
