Copyright © 2014 Jennifer Foor
All Rights Reserved
Edited By : Pamela Snyder
Cover Art: Wicked Cool Designs
This book is a written act of fiction. Any places, characters, or similarities are purely coincidence. If certain places or characters are referenced it is for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is not allowed to be offered for sale, discounted, or free on any sites other than Kobo, IBook’s, Amazon and Barnes and Noble. This book may only be distributed by Jennifer Foor, the owner and Author of this series.
Check out the other books by Jennifer Foor
A Mitchell Family Series
Letting Go -Folding Hearts - Raging Love-Risking Fate –Wrapping Up - Wanting More - Saving Us - Blinding Trust –Losing Him - Loving Her
The Mitchell-Healy Series
Noah
Isabella (August 2014)
Love’s Suicide
The Kin Series
Repair Me - Replace Me - Restore Me
Remember Me
Reject Me (Coming Summer 2014)
Hope’s Chance (Contemporary Romance)
The Somnian Series (YA Paranormal)
Hustle Me (A Bank Shot Romance)
Hustle Him (A Bank Shot Romance)
Diary of a Male Maid
Twinsequences
Beta Readers
Lisa Hintz, Michelle Kannan, Kayla Kennedy, Emma Clifton, Kristy Davidson, Catherine Roberts, Lara Petterson , Jennifer Harried, Mechelle Lovell Jackson, Jamie Grant,
Sara Ferguson
Web Design and Marketing by: Amy Haigler
Acknowledgements:
Lisa Hintz - TRSOR
Lara Petterson.
Thanks to my kick-ass street team, Foor Players.
FOORWHORES – my super secret society
Thanks to all of my new friends on my FB, Twitter and Goodreads. Thank you for spreading the word and all of the support you give.Thanks to all of my other Independent Author Friends. (you know who you are) Thank you to all the book bloggers out there spreading the word for me and others who write. I would name them all, but then I’d forget one and hate myself forever.
SO THANKS TO ALL OF YOU for
working your butts off for us authors.
Special Thanks to: The Mullet Ninjas
Chapter 1
Fifteen hours.
That’s how long it had been since my entire world was turned to literal shit.
After reaching inside of my purse, and grabbing the semi-organized group of coupons, I looked back up at the conveyor belt rolling my groceries toward the cashier. I double checked all of my items with how many coupons that I was using, making sure for maximum savings. One quick glance at the cashier and I knew she wasn’t too happy about me being one of her first customers of the morning. I didn’t care about her opinion, since extreme couponing had been saving me money ever since I’d started doing it. The elderly man in front of me was more of a pain in the ass than scanning a few pieces of paper. If she knew what was good for her she’d put a smile on her face and be cordial, before I slapped that grin right off of it. I needed every extra penny I could pinch. After last night I was going to need a lot more than pennies to get me by.
Just thinking about it made my stomach turn. I still couldn’t accept that it was real. It was a wife’s worst nightmare, the most horrible act of defiance. The repercussions of one person’s action had destroyed my life, and I still hadn’t had enough time to comprehend all that something like this could mean for mine and my children’s futures.
The queasiness started to get worse. I grabbed my abdomen and scrunched up my face. The idea of having the explosive nerve shits in the line at the grocery store wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, but as the urgency became painful, I knew I had a decision to make.
Without worrying about the people in line behind me, or the fact that I was next up, I got out of my place and located the restroom, while squeezing my ass cheeks tightly together to prevent the inevitable.
To be honest, I wasn’t the kind of person that liked to use public restrooms. The smell of overbearing air freshener filled my nostrils, reminding me that they used such pungent scents to hide the filth and germs.
I grabbed a roll of paper from the back of the commode and started unraveling it over the seat until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. As fast as I could pull my jeans down, I lost it. I sat there, clenching the underneath of the toilet as if it was keeping me on the ground. The sheer humiliation of what was happening to me made me begin to bawl. This was my lowest point; the place where I’d never in my whole marriage thought I would be.
So one might ask what is more embarrassing then leaving my groceries at the register while obviously running to the crapper in dire need of release.
If you haven’t figured it out, I’ll be happy to tell you.
It’s having someone walk into the bathroom while you are blowing the place up.
I think that, mixed with the current rush of emotions from the night before caused me to lose all sense of dignity. My lips trembled and my eyes were so filled with tears that I couldn’t see the explicit writings on the stall door. Nothing could be worse than what I was going through, well nothing except for the death of one of my children, and I thanked God every single second that I still had them.
You’re probably wondering what could have gotten me into such a displeasing predicament. I suppose it started a long time ago, although details are irrelevant.
You see, being a mother and wife is my calling. My family is my whole world, and I’d give my own life for any of them without a second’s thought. Last night two of my children had soccer practice at two different fields, at the same time. After getting two of my three children off the bus from school, the fiasco had begun. Violet and Opal had practice at six, while Weston, my teenage son, had stayed after school for a football meeting. I’d tried to get all of their things ready before they got home, in between clipping my coupons, doing the laundry and watching my favorite soap opera. Mind you, I keep busy during the day, cleaning the house and making sure everything is in order for when my husband arrives home, promptly at five.
Normally he would help me with the kids at night, but he’d been working on this super important project, that required him to stay for long hours at the office. I knew he’d be too tired after going in at five in the morning to get a head start, so I opted to handle it myself.
Of course I’d forget shin guards, the most important part of the soccer uniform. After dropping off one child at the first field, Opal realized the dilemma. “Mom seriously? How can you forget them? I can’t play without them. Why even go to practice now?”
“I’ll run home and grab them. Just go out there and tell your coach so he doesn’t count you as late. You don’t want to have to sit out first quarter for Saturday’s game, do you?”
She looked out at the field. “Duh, of course not!”
Children had a way with making me cringe when they spoke, mine especially. “I’ll be five minutes, Opal. Just chill out for once.”
“Whatever.” She jumped out of the mini-van.
I looked at the clock and noticed it was five fifty-five. I could run and be back before warm-ups were over, and Opal would forget all about my mistake.
Before I get to the point, I just want to say again that being a mother is the most wonderful gift that I’d ever been given. I’d always wanted to have children, and had been very blessed. There wasn’t anything that I wasn’t willing to do for
them, and they knew it.
Super mom mode was in effect. I’d ran through a red light and two of the traffic bumps in our little community to make it to the house a minute sooner than normal. Since I was in a hurry, I figured I’d enter in through the back door that we kept unlocked and grab what I needed with the vehicle still running.
I unlatched the privacy fence that led to the back yard, refastened it so our Saint Bernard Samson wouldn’t escape, and entered in through the sunroom. As always the house was quiet. I knew my husband was home, since I’d spotted his car, and heard the water running as I made it up the steps toward the bedrooms.
I think at first I thought it was the television. Men like to watch dirty flicks when the wife and children weren’t around. We were not saints after all. Obviously we’ve all relished in some sort of taboo lifestyle, at least at a distance.
I had little bullet vibrators in my drawer and lotions that are supposed to make my man last longer. We’d messed around with role play and laughed about it each time. Porn just wasn’t a big deal to me.
After grabbing the shin guards and standing in the foyer listening, I started to feel horny. The kids weren’t home and he was definitely looking for some stress relief.
Out of all the times where the kids came before my husband I figured five more minutes couldn’t hurt. I’d tell her I couldn’t find them, or that I’d gotten pulled over to make her feel bad for me rushing.
Don’t judge, everyone does it.
So anyway, I sat the shin guards down on the hall table and crept into the room to catch my husband watching porn while showering. I even giggled thinking about the day he’d offered to put a television on the bathroom counter, claiming we could listen and watch the news while crapping or taking a bath.
After opening the double doors to the master suite, I crept near the bathroom door and froze. Clearly there was a man and woman talking, but the man’s voice wasn’t coming from the television. I laughed again, imagining him in the shower, with the glass doors open talking to the porn woman on the television, as if she was getting him off instead of his own hand. I cracked open the door to scare him, and got way more than an eyeful. Not only was my husband indisposed, but through the glass shower walls I spotted my next door neighbor on her knees in front of him, with a mouth full of his cock. She was steadily sucking him off while gagging from taking his full shaft as deep as possible.
Utter shock.
Betrayal.
Anger.
Hurt.
Humiliation.
You name it, and I was feeling it.
In those few moments I lost track of time. The room began to spin and I was positive that my late lunch was going to show back up at any second.
I just couldn’t stop looking. His hands pressed against that fogged up glass. The moans were coming from both of them.
“Yeah, you know how I like it, Kate. Ahhh, you’re the best, baby. Make me cum. Take that load for Daddy.”
For Daddy? Really? If he talked to me like that I would have bit off the damn thing.
I watch a lot of television shows. Ever since that damn DVR thingy was invented I recorded all sorts of crap to bide my time while I worked around the house. After sixteen years of raising children for a living, taking care of a house had gotten easy. My favorite kind of shows were the police ones, where they basically show you how not to get caught when committing a crime.
My mind went to two things simultaneously as I stood there flabbergasted at what I was witnessing.
How to kill them both before soccer practice was over.
How much acid can you buy without the officials getting notified?
The water shut off, causing me to lose my footing and fall back on the plush carpet in the bedroom. I panicked, rushing out of the room and back out the door before they knew I’d been there. With shaky hands I backed out of the driveway and rushed down the road, turning the corner before I considered stopping.
That’s when I lost it, right there on the road adjacent to mine. Through narrow hedges I could still see my house. I watched, with tear-filled eyes for twenty more minutes until Kate came walking out my back gate with wet hair. I covered my face with my hands and couldn’t control my emotions any longer. I was utterly and completely devastated.
How could he do that to me, to our family, to our life? What had I done wrong? Did I not give him what he needed?
Her moans kept ringing through my ears and the way he told her she was so good. In all honestly I would have been okay if a random carjacker would have walked up and shot me in the head to take my van and my purse. Unfortunately we live in a very nice neighborhood where crimes like that have never happened before.
At six thirty-two my cell phone started to ring in my purse. I wiped off my tears, even though I knew the person on the other end couldn’t see me, and then answered.
“Hello?”
“Mom. It’s me. Can you pick me up from school, or do you want me to call dad?”
The mere mention of him made my skin crawl. I wondered how I could go from loving someone so completely to hating them with a passion that only murder could fix.
Knowing I was in no shape or form to face any of the kids, I remained calm. “You should call dad. I’m sure he’s not doing anything important.” If there was some kind of sarcasm in my voice my son wouldn’t have noticed. All that ever caught his attention were cheerleaders named Sam with double-d breasts.
After ending the call I watched the house and saw my husband heading for his car in the driveway. Since I obviously didn’t want anything to do with the man, until I could rationalize with what to do, I pulled away and headed to the field.
Violet ran over to the van and climbed in the back without even looking at me. It was amazing that I could have been a stranger and she wouldn’t have even noticed. I conjured up my normal voice enough to speak to her. “How was practice?”
“Fine. I’m hungry. Can we stop somewhere?” My fourteen year-old loved me, somewhere deep inside, buried and locked away.
“Let’s get your sister first and then we’ll decide.”
Opal spotted the van as soon as I pulled up and walked toward it. I wiped my eyes one last time and waited to get reamed out by my fifteen year-old. “Mom, seriously? You said you’d be right back. Now I can’t play Saturday and it’s all your fault.”
I thought about the shin guards being on the table where I left them and then went back to the vision of my husband getting a blow-job by my neighbor, and I lost it.
Tears rolled down my eyes and I threw the van into park, letting my head fall on the steering wheel.
“Mom, are you okay?” Violet asked from the back seat.
“I got pulled over. He was so mean to me. He made me sit there while he checked to see if my plates were stolen. Apparently there was a robbery in town today and my vehicle matched the description,” I lied. The more I sobbed the more believable it was. After all, I was the boring soccer mom that never did anything wrong.
“Oh my God! Will it be on the news?” Of course Violet would think she could use an incident like that as a popularity advantage at her school.
“No. It was just me and the officer. After thirty minutes he let me go. It just scared me, that’s all.”
“I guess getting something to eat is off then,” Violet said from the back seat.
“Oh, can we, Mom? I’m hungry too. I couldn’t eat that chicken you made yesterday again. It was too spicy.”
I’d tried to make jerk chicken the night before. Instead I’d made the most spicy chicken that any of us had ever eaten. Though my husband and son devoured every bite, none of us girls could handle it. Since I refused to throw away good food, I washed it off and offered it again for dinner. They weren’t falling for it.
Since the last place I wanted to be was at home, I decided that stopping anywhere was a good idea. “We can stop. I can use a few minutes to calm down.”
Normally fast food places take forever. Of course, on this p
articular night you’d think the building was on fire. We had our food in less than two minutes and I had run out of reasons to stall going home.
While my two daughters stuffed their faces in the vehicle, I drove silently contemplating on how I was going to handle things. My first concern had to be my children. As horrible as it was, I couldn’t subject them to his infidelities, even though in my eyes he wasn’t just cheating on me, he was cheating on them too.
That rotten bastard had let his dick ruin our family, and I was going to cut it off and stick it in my neighbor’s mailbox for her to keep. Better yet, I’d cook it and invite her to lunch. Imagining the look on my face as I sat watching her eating it was making me smile in the midst of tragedy. I had to let my mind wander, because it was the only thing keeping me from breaking down.
Not only could I not let my girls see me that way, but I knew for a fact that I’d die before I let him know he’d shattered my heart into a million pieces. The bile in my throat was a constant reminder of what I’d witnessed just hours earlier. My dignity was gone, and replaced with little self worth. How was I not good enough for him?
For him of all people.
The man who constantly had shit stains in his tighty-whities.
The man who soaked his pillow every night in drool.
The man who couldn’t order a pizza by himself.
I’d done everything for him our entire marriage, and this was how he repaid me, by fucking my neighbor that I walked with on the weekends.
Come hell or high water, I was going to find a way to make him pay for what he’d done to me. This was not alright. I’d watched enough television shows on crime to know exactly how to make that mother fucker suffer.
It was easy to get mad to hide the real pain that had overwhelmed me. I think when something like this happens you go through the motions, not really understanding the severity to an extent.
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