Unforgettable: The Complete Series (A Sexy Cinderella Standalone Love Story)

by Nelle L'Amour

  Having no choice, I followed him as he stormed out of the booth and headed back onto the set. Everyone was gone including the crew. Only a few buzzing bees remained. My nerves crackled with apprehension. I didn’t like being here alone with Don Springer. The faster I could give him my notes, the better.

  Standing beside him before the Wheel of Pain, I opened my notebook. It shook in my hands. Before I could give a single note, he wrenched it away and flung it across the soundstage. His face reddened with rage.

  “No uptight little bitch tells me to shut down my production.” He jerked me against him.

  “Let go of me!” Writhing, I tried to free myself, but his grip was too powerful.

  “Tell me, why the fuck did you do that?” His fetid breath heated my face. I turned away from him. He pinched my cheek. “Answer me.”

  I winced. “My boss, Blake Burns, gave me the authority to make decisions.”

  “That fucking prick.” He squeezed me tighter. He was hurting me. I could hardly breathe.

  “The contestants were in too much pain.” The words barely made it out of my mouth.

  “I’ll show you pain, you cunt.”

  Only one person had ever called me that. That night. Sophomore year. Don cut the painful memory short and shoved me into the capsule on the wheel.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped. My inner panic button sounded.

  “You’re going for a ride, you little ho.”

  The monster stomped on a large button on the floor and then, to my horror, hopped into the capsule. The wheel began to spin. As it ascended, he tore off my blouse and tossed it onto the set. I heard the pearl buttons ping across the floor as he slammed me down onto the cushion. His wretched eyes held me prisoner.

  “Let go of me!” I screamed as he pinned me down by my shoulders.

  “Shut up!” He slapped me hard across the face and then groped my quivering breasts. Fear filled every crevice of my being.

  “Stop it!” I cried, futilely fighting him off. If only I had my purse, I could use my pepper spray. But in my angst-out state, I’d left it in the booth.

  He squeezed my nipples and laughed. “Do you let that asshole boss of yours do things to you?”

  “Let go of me. Please.” As I twisted and turned, a sharp pain pierced the back of my hand. For sure, a bee had stung me. Tears stung my eyes. Sobs wracked my body.

  “Shut the fuck up and spread your legs, bitch. Or I’ll do it for you.”

  I watched with wide-eyed horror as he zipped down his fly, and his dick, a thick wad of repulsive pulsating flesh, sprung from his pants. He thrust himself on top of me, crushing me with his weight.

  “I’m going to ram you like a jackhammer. Make it so it hurts to walk, slut.” He began to rip off my skirt and panties at once. “You’re going to pay for what you did, cunt!”

  “No!” I cried out at the top of my lungs. Hot tears poured from my eyes. Desperately, I tried to fight him off, but his weight held me down. My sobs and screams filled the air. Oh please, God, no!

  Then, as if my prayer had been answered, another voice roared. Three magical words.

  “You fucking bastard!”

  The End of Part 1

  THAT MAN

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  Continue to read the THAT MAN series. One click the covers below.

  Blake and Jennifer’s rollercoaster romance continues in the THAT MAN TRILOGY. In the two-part WEDDING STORY, find out what really happened between scorchin’ hot Blake Burns and crazy Katrina. Be prepared to laugh, cry, and swoon!

  The books are also available individually and are FREE in Kindle Unlimited. Click on the covers below.

  EXTRA BONUS BOOK! NELLE L’AMOUR’S LATEST!

  TRAINWRECK

  Nelle L’Amour

  Copyright © 2016 by Nelle L’Amour

  All rights reserved

  First Edition: May 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook at the authorized online outlets.

  Nelle L’Amour thanks you for your understanding and support.

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  Cover by Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs

  Proofreading by Mary Jo Toth

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  A Note from Nelle

  Dearest Reader~

  Whether you’re new to me as a reader or have read many of my books, it is my pleasure to bring you TRAINWRECK, a two-part series.

  This series is very special to me because it is a reworking of my very first erotic romance series, Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire. I have added Ari’s POV throughout. The material is brand new and not a rehashing of previously written chapters. If you’ve previously read Seduced, you will not find a new story, but you will uncover, as I did in writing the new chapters, the answers to many unanswered questions and get a much deeper understanding of Ari’s complex character—particularly his fear of commitment because of the emotional and physical scar he harbors. There is also a bonus five-years later epilogue, which many of you asked for.

  Additionally, the original Sarah POV chapters have been painstakingly edited to bring you the best reading experience possible. Since writing the original versions, I have grown as a writer and I hope you will see this reflected in this book. Believe it or not, I spent more time (countless hours!) editing the original chapters from Sarah’s POV than I did on the new ones from Ari’s.

  I know many of you prefer standalones, and I initially intended on making TRAINWRECK one. However, it became way too lengthy to be a single book. Hence, I’m bringing it to you as a two-parter, but you will have a seamless reading experience as both full-length books are releasing at the same time. So when you get to the end of Book 1 and scream, “OH NO!” (and you will!), you will be able to immediately one-click Book 2 and read the rest of Ari and Sarah’s passionate runaway train romance.

  I would also like to point out that the combined price for the two books is the same as what it would cost to buy a standalone. The benefit of a two-parter is that it allows me the opportunity to provide you with an inexpensive first book so you can decide if you want to continue reading my story. Fingers crossed you will.

  Lastly, before I take up too much of your valuable reading time, I want to share something personal with you. The story was inspired by a true event and a special person in my life. Yes, the first chapter—the scene on the train—actually happened to me, well more or less. This is after all fiction, the story and characters, a product of my imagination. But my “Trainman” really did live on Park Avenue and commute to Philadelphia every day. He was a loving single dad and the most beautiful man I ever met. A golden-haired Adonis. Le sigh! No, I didn’t marry him, but I did marry the second most beautiful man in my life. And I have no regrets.

  But we never forget our first love, even as the years roll by. Sometimes a single encounter will change your life and stay in your heart forever. Had I not met this gorgeous stranger on a train, I would not be bringing you all my steamy books that make you laugh, cry, and swoon.

  I hope you will love reading TRAINWRECK as much as I loved writing it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your love and support. You, my belle reader, are the reason I write.

  MWAH!~Nelle ♥

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  For all those who still remember their first love.

  May they never be forgotten.

  trainwreck:

  a total fucking disaster…the kind that makes you want to shake your head

  Chapter 1

  Ari

  I was at 30th Street Station early, something that was unusual for me. It was a three-day holiday weekend so I’d shut down my office early, letting my hard-working employees get a head start on some rest and relaxation with their families and friends. They deserved the time off.

  I soaked in my surroundings. I knew this place like the back of my hand, having commuted to and from it from Manhattan for over seven years. Many thought I was nuts to make the ninety-five-mile commute almost daily and told me I should move my company to the city or I should move to Philly. I had thought about it a few times, but it was out of the question. The company, started by my father, had originated in Philadelphia and that’s where it would stay. I loved living in Manhattan and that’s where I would stay. Besides, I enjoyed the commute and truthfully it wasn’t too bad—just a little over an hour and a half each way. The morning ride in business class was productive, letting me catch up on all my emails. And after a long day at the office, the ride home was relaxing. I could read a newspaper and unwind with a cold bottle of beer. And sometimes I could catch up on a little sleep.

  After buying a Wall Street Journal, I hung out on the VIP mezzanine, waiting for my train to be called. It was a great place to people watch, something I enjoyed doing. The onset of rush hour, the station below was bustling with people from all walks of life, young and old, and representing a broad spectrum of ethnicities. As I surveyed the comings and goings of the crowd, my heart did a little flip.

  Ah! There she was, looking more frantic than usual. That mysterious girl. I’d seen her here several times before, always sitting on a bench and what looked to be drawing in a sketchpad. Today, she was racing through the busy station.

  My eyes followed her, taking mental snapshots, though I’d captured her once on my cell phone. This was the first time I’d ever seen her standing up. She was tall, in fact, taller than I’d imagined. Maybe five nine or ten. Her body was a gaggle of spindly arms and legs, her clunky boots making her legs look skinnier and longer. Her long, loose-fitting skirt came below her knees, but by her gait, I knew she must have a pair of lightning-fast, colt-like legs. Her long dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which made her look younger than what I assumed was twenty-something. A large canvas bag with worn leather fittings was slung over her shoulders and flew behind her as she galloped through the station. She was so not my chic blond supermodel type, but there was something about her I found interesting. And so sexy. As usual, at the sight of her, my cock flexed beneath my slacks as I fantasized about undressing her.

  Perched high above her, I kept my gaze on her as she scurried about. What would it be like to fuck her? Would she like it hard? Scream when she came? Come again and again? For a split-second, I thought her eyes met mine. The call for my train diverted my attention, interrupting my lustful thoughts, and I headed for the platform, her body and face etched in my mind. Maybe one of these days, I’d encounter her again and find out who she was. My cock twitched at the possibility.

  Chapter 2

  Sarah

  I was going to miss my train! That was all I could think of as I dashed through Philadelphia’s majestic 30th Street Station. Totally disheveled. A total trainwreck, no pun intended.

  My best friend, Lauren, with all her connections, had scored a bunch of coveted tickets to a Black Eyed Peas concert in Central Park, and I was among those she had chosen to be part of her entourage so I had to be home by seven, shower, and get dressed. I rushed past the tempting food court toward the information center. The old-fashioned, flip-letter Amtrak schedule board made a ticking sound as it updated arrivals and departures. I glanced up. Shit! My train to Penn Station was leaving in five minutes from Gate 5. My eyes darted around the high-ceiling Art Deco station for the escalator leading down to the train platforms. Usually, I took the cheap, smelly Chinatown express bus to Philadelphia to visit my mother, but today was one of the few exceptions because of the concert. Despite the fact I’d been in this vast station a few times before, I never knew where I was going. My sense of direction was nothing to be proud of.

  My eyes bounced from the famous Angel of the Resurrection statue to another bronzed statue. A god. An over six-foot tall, golden-haired Adonis leaning seductively against the railing of the VIP mezzanine. Even from this distant vantage point, I could tell he was wearing one of those super-expensive, custom-tailored beige suits that New York’s tycoons donned once spring hit. It made a stunning contrast with his St. Tropez tan, the kind wealthy Manhattanites sported all year round. With his designer sunglasses perched on his perfectly blown flaxen hair, he looked like he was straight out of GQ.

  I couldn’t get my eyes off him. The sight of him made my knees weak and my heart hammer. I had dreamt about men like this, but the reality of ever meeting one was not within my grasp. I was a geeky, relatively recent college grad, who, after several false starts, had finally landed an entry-level job at Ike’s Tikes, an established New York City toy company, and was struggling to make ends meet. Beautiful men were just not in the cards. They never had been. But my mom had always told me it was okay to dream, so for a minute, as Adonis pivoted his head in my direction, I imagined his eyes burning across the station into mine.

  A booming voice put an end to my reverie—and the hot pulsating sensation thrumming between my legs. “Last call for Amtrak 148 to Penn Station boarding at Gate 5.”

  In the blink of an eye, Adonis was gone. Out of my life and dreams forever. My pulse accelerated as my eyes flitted around the vast station for the gate sign. Finally, I found it and began to run, my messenger-style canvas bag flying behind me. The escalator descending to the train platform was out of order. Thank goodness, I was wearing my trusty combat boots. At breakneck speed, I clambered down the daunting three flights of stairs, praying that the train wouldn’t leave without me.

  “Wait!” I screamed as the automatic doors of the sleek silver train were closing. I skimmed through one of them, narrowly missing being a smooshed sardine.

  Breathing heavily, I staggered through the car, desperately searching for a seat. Nothing. It was rush hour and every seat was taken. Maybe I would have better luck in the next car, I thought as I wobbled across the connecting bridge, the train rolling into motion. I so needed to sit down, catch my breath, and relax. I was exhausted and rundown. Not just from my sprint to the train, but from weeks of juggling my Manhattan-based job as the assistant to a demanding female executive with visits to my ailing mother, who was receiving experimental cancer treatments at the University of Pennsylvania’s world-renowned hospital. Seeing my mother in her weakened state, hooked up to IVs and monitors, never helped no matter how cheery she was when I came to see her.

  As the train picked up speed, I struggled to keep my balance and open the sliding door to the next car. Using all the muscle power I could muster, I finally yanked it open and stumbled into the cabin. This car was different than the one before. It was far more spacious and deluxe. Roomy pairs of rich brown leather seats lined the aisles, and the well-dressed occupants were sipping cocktails in real glasses while toying with the latest electronic gadgets. This was obviously business-class. I sure as hell did not belong here wearing my T.J. Maxx midi skirt and cheap T-shirt. Oh yeah, and my scuffed up boots, which I’d found at a flea market. This was the cabin where Louis Vuittons, Jimmy Choos, and Chanels mingled with other LVs, Choos, and Cocos. No, I didn’t belong here. Not one bit.

  Fighting the speed of the train and my embarrassment, I clumsily zigzagged down the aisle, occasionally grabbing onto the corner of a seat for balance. Like the previous cabin, every seat was taken. No one see
med to notice me, but truthfully, I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. As I neared the back of the car, the train jerked, sending me flying into the lap of a Wall Street Journal-reading commuter to my left.

  “I’m so sorry,” I squeaked at my victim, whose face was still buried in his newspaper.

  He flexed his powerful thigh muscles under my butt, signaling for me to get up, and then slowly lowered his newspaper. A smirk curled on his lips. Oh, those lips! My heart leaped into my throat. Adonis!

  “Sit,” he said, motioning to the empty window seat next to his.

  “Um, uh, I’m in economy,” I stuttered, my eyes unable to leave his face, no matter how humiliated I felt. Up close, he was even more beautiful than I imagined with his chiseled nose, strong, angular jaw, and piercing eyes the color of sapphires.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll handle it,” he replied with a wink.

  Holy shit! Adonis had just winked at me!

  “Sit,” he growled, this time as if it were an order.

  With a powerful heave of his knees, he bounced me to my feet, forcing me to plop down next to him.

  Holy shit again! I was going to spend the next hour and a half sitting next to this gorgeous man—a man that existed only in my dreams—and now I had no idea what to say. My heart pounded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his tone challenging.

  “Sarah,” I replied, pulling myself together in time to reply in a very business-like voice.

  “Saarah.”

  The sultry way he repeated my name—drawing out the first syllable with a breathy lilt—sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t help thinking of my favorite song from my favorite movie, West Side Story. Say it soft and it’s almost like praying.