Broken Records

by Cassie Mae

  Acknowledgments

  Cassie

  I’ve hated this book. I wanted to toss it down a river and dance as it fell over a waterfall. I was so frustrated and upset and wanted to give up because darn that Ethan and his voice that just wouldn’t talk to me when I needed him to. I really was ready to burn this thing. Burn it all! Then, obviously, that didn’t happen, and it was because I wrote this book with my best friend, who has to deal with my crazy every day, and knows exactly what I need and what will make things better.

  So, thank you Tessa. I can now say that I love this book, that I’m proud of it, and that I can’t wait to work on something again with you because you always make me a better writer, and a better person. Love your face.

  A big thank you goes to my beta girls, my awesome nerds, Carol Paolo, our fantastic cover designer (C & K Creations), and our editor, Suzi Retzlaff for getting this book from concept to publication.

  And a thank you to my family, especially hubs, who along with Tessa told me not to throw anything out that is worth keeping.

  Tessa

  Cassie, every book we have ever written together before this one was like a lovely walk in the countryside. It was fun, easy, and almost therapeutic. This book was hell from the very beginning. We had been planning it for so long that I feel like our expectations were fogging our way. However, in the end, I love this book because it showed me that even when you’re ready to throw in the towel and say the hell with it, you can still find the desire to keep going. It showed me that even when we can’t get on the same page, which is rare, it’s okay because we’ll work together to figure it out.

  If I had written this book with anyone else, it never would’ve gotten done. Thanks for hanging in there with me. I couldn’t do half the things I do without your constant support. As long as you never give up on me, I’ll never give up on you. Love you!

  Thank you to my mom who is always willing to be a fresh pair of eyes and not scared to tell me when something isn’t working. To my beta girls who are always there for support, love you all! Suzi Retzlaff, thanks for letting us reschedule on you a million times and thanks for being one of the best friends a girl could ask for!

  A huge thank you to Eric, for letting me take a leap and live out my dreams. Your faith in me means more than I can manage in this small space. So even though I know you probably won’t read this, thank you. I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you!

  About Cassie Mae

  Cassie Mae is the author of a dozen or so books. Some of which became popular for their quirky titles, characters, and stories. She likes writing about nerds, geeks, the awkward, the fluffy, the short, the shy, the loud, the fun.

  Since publishing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend, she’s published several titles with Penguin Random House and founded CookieLynn Publishing Services. She is represented by Sharon Pelletier at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management. She has a favorite of all her book babies, but no, she won’t tell you what it is. (Mainly because it changes depending on the day.)

  Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge watch Once Upon A Time and The Flash. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.

  You can stalk, talk, or send pictures of Luke Bryan to her on her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/cassiemaeauthor

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  About Tessa Marie

  Tessa Marie aka Theresa Paolo lives on Long Island, NY with her fiancé and their fish. She is the author of NA and YA contemporary romances. Her debut novel (NEVER) AGAIN, released in Fall 2013 with Berkley (Penguin) and the companion novel (ONCE) AGAIN released Summer 2014. Both her books HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE and PROVE ME WRONG are Amazon bestsellers. She is also the coauthor of the Amazon bestselling Beds Series. She has a hard time accepting the fact she’s in her early thirties (very early), and uses her characters to relive the best and worst years of her life. She put her love of writing on hold while she received her Bachelor’s Degree in Marketing. When she’s not writing, she’s behind a camera, reading, watching Vampire Diaries and Pretty Little Liars, or can be found on Twitter, Pinterest and Facebook.

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  Goodreads

  Also by Cassie Mae

  Young Adult

  Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend

  You Can’t Catch Me

  Friday Night Alibi

  Secret Catch

  YA Series

  How to Date a Nerd

  How to Seduce a Band Geek

  How to Hook a Bookworm

  King Sized Beds and Happy Trails

  Beach Side Beds and Sandy Paths

  Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads

  True Love and Magic Tricks

  (Buy the whole series here!)

  New Adult

  Switched

  The Real Thing

  Unexpectedly You

  Adult Series

  Doing It for Love

  No Interest in Love

  Crazy About Love

  Coming Soon!

  Flirty Thirty (October 2016)

  Pillowtalk (April 2017)

  Also by Tessa Marie

  (Never) Again

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dgIibX

  B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bookpaolo-theresa/1119877180?ean=9780698143777

  Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/never-again-20

  (Once) Again

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ctvnC2

  B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bookpaolo-theresa/1119877181?ean=9780698181588

  Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/once-again-10

  Home is Where You Are

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cXmEqX

  Prove Me Wrong

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2dgJa0a

  Dead Girl

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cznABi

  Chapter 1

  AUGUST

  Not pregnant.

  Praise Jesus.

  I chuck the negative test in the bathroom trash with a shimmy and a shake. Pregnant at twenty-two was not what I pictured when I did my aptitude test seven years ago. Those results said I’d be some sort of performance artist. I pictured myself famous, in all the Broadway plays, living in my penthouse suite with my best friend, Theresa, and having weekend nookies with Chase Crawford. Kids were on the bucket list under: hell yes . . . when I’m married. Obviously, I was a dreamer at fifteen. Now that I’m more a realist, I’ve learned to be happy with whatever life has to offer me.

  But I am happy that it decided not to offer me a baby right now.

  I start the water on the shower because I feel like I peed all over myself when I attempted to aim on the stick. Aunt Flo is fourteen days late, and I’ve been avoiding Landon and his semen. Not that he’s noticed.

  If sex was a three course meal, Landon and I would be the peas and carrots. We’re good together, but we’re still the vegetables. Basically we do it when there’s a commercial on, when there is no food in the fridge, or it’s someone’s birthday. It’s okay . . . that’s what happens when you move past the honeymoon stage.

  We used to be strawberries and whipped cream. Luxurious dessert, grinding on each other on public dance floors, car sex, kitchen sex, against the wall sex, balcony sex—which was an epic fail, by the way—and the always disastrous shower sex. Disaster because our bathtub is made for one person only, and so lying down ended with a faucet to the butthole and standing up made for slipper
y recoveries. But we were strawberries and whipped cream, so we’d laugh it off, not let it break the mood, jump into bed, and keep at it.

  I refuse to think we’ve become raisin bran—the sex you have only because you have needs to take care of—despite what Theresa says. She’s permanently the palate cleanser between courses in her own sex life, and she’s not budging any time soon. But she just hasn’t found her Landon yet.

  Anyway, back to Landon not noticing the lack of sex, it’s because we’re so busy all the time. He works all day at a call center then he goes and films all night. He’s a director-in-training—got an award for his last movie and a grant to make the one he’s working on now. So he comes home smelling like sweaty socks—which he loves to leave on the floor in the living room. That’s what peas and carrots do, though.

  It’s funny, for so long I wanted to know the story after the happy ending. What happens to the couple once they find each other, consummate their relationship, and get past their demons? Now that I’m in that story, I get why no one talks about it. I’m in love, so it pretty much trumps all the other crap. At least, it has so far. Despite Landon’s dirty laundry—literal—and his late nights—also literal—he makes me laugh. I’ve never had so much fun with another person. Even being vegetables, sex—when we have it—is fun. Probably why I wish we had it more.

  Better check the effectiveness of my birth control first, though.

  A hand whips back the shower curtain, and I scream like a banshee and chuck my washcloth at the attacker.

  “Sweet mother,” I say, holding my heart. “What the hell?”

  Landon slowly peels the washcloth from the bill of his The Nightmare Before Christmas hat. He’s wearing his matching graphic tee, a red stain on the upper right sleeve. Probably from the pizza he had to gobble between his job and his shoot this afternoon.

  “Liz,” he says, holding the pregnancy test between two fingers. “What is this?”

  “It’s a negative pee test. Don’t worry.”

  “Did you think you were pregnant?” He chokes on the word.

  “Yes, but I’m not.” I lean forward and kiss his shocked lips. “So don’t worry.”

  He lets out this large breath, chucking the test back in the trash. “Fine, but you must promise on your precious iPod that you will tell me next time you think you are.”

  I hold my hand to the square. “I vow to dispose of all my late period secrets.” I drop my arm. “Now may I shower?”

  “How long you going to be?”

  “Normal.”

  “So till the hot water is out.”

  I put a finger to my nose, and he pulls his cap off. His shirt goes next.

  “Joining me?” I ask, my lady nethers perking up. It’s not even my birthday. What a sexy surprise.

  “Yeah, I won’t have time in the morning.”

  “Oh.” Calm down girls, it’s just one of those “saving water” things, and not because I’m naked, he’s naked, and we’re going to be wet and slippery.

  His cold hand splays across my stomach when he steps in, and I refuse to let my nethers get their hopes up again.

  “You okay?” he asks, scruff tickling my neck.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Paint me paranoid,” he says, backing me into his chilled body. I move the water so he warms up. “But I think something’s wrong. And I’m not letting you out of this shower till you tell me.”

  A twitch of a smile finds itself on my mouth. “I’m fine.”

  “Good thing you’re naked.” He taps my ass. “Your pants wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  I shake my head, biting back my laughter. “You’re a tease.”

  “Why?”

  He knows why. The last time we showered together, he held me close like this, got me all revved up, then grabbed the soap, washed himself, and left for work. It’s not his fault. I did the same thing the time before that. Again, comes back to being the veggies of the sex meal.

  “Okay. The guessing game,” he says when I don’t answer. “I’ll play, but you know I don’t like it.” He gently rocks me. “Your vampire show didn’t record?”

  I snort a laugh into the water. “I haven’t checked. But it better have.”

  He swipes my hair off my neck, and I feel his smile against my skin. “Hmm . . . the Jets have no shot of making the playoffs. I feel your pain. I cried it all out last night. Now it’s your turn.”

  I playfully elbow him in the stomach, but despite my abuse, Landon’s arms tighten around me, thumb reassuringly rubbing my hipbone.

  “No . . . I think I know what this is really about.” He pulls at the skin by my bellybutton. I raise an eyebrow because there is nothing wrong. I’m just horny.

  “Did you want a baby?” he asks, and my jaw drops.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s okay if you did. I . . . I mean, I want to have kids with you someday.”

  Someday . . . yes. But not today. I grin at the scared-as-hell look on his face. That’s the great thing about the longtime relationship. I know his looks. I know his smiles, his frowns, his laughs. I reach to him, and his hand slips through my wet blond hair, hugs the back of my head, and pulls me into his shoulder. I lock my arms around his torso, ignore the sweet buzzing all over my stomach and heart and sides. His fingers massage my scalp as he rocks me.

  “I like the idea of having a permanent piece of you,” I admit into his wet skin.

  “You already have a permanent piece of me.” One of his hands slides down the length of my back. “Hell, you have the whole thing.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay . . . if you really want . . . I’ll impregnate you. Open up.” He pushes at my thighs, and I smack his shoulders.

  “Pretty sure I want us to be married first. And I don’t know . . . older.” Like years ahead of us. We can barely afford to feed ourselves.

  “You . . . you said married.”

  “I did.”

  I push back on his chest, and he scratches his dark hair. “Just letting you know I’m not freaking out about it.”

  “This is not freaking out about it?” I say, circling my finger at his face. It could be the steam from the shower making it smoke red, but it sure doesn’t seem that way.

  “I let it slide like it was nothing.”

  “You did not.”

  He growls, playfully nipping at my neck. “Well, I’m not freaking out,” he muffles against my skin, creating goose bumps up and down my spine. “Because, you know, we’re in the spot.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, the spot.”

  “In the shower?” I laugh when his red face darkens a shade.

  “No, I mean . . . I love you. And it’s not like I’m going to break up with you. And I’m pretty sure you want to be stuck with me.”

  “You think we’re stuck? That’s ‘the spot?’”

  “No. Shit, it’s coming out wrong.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re trying to say.” I laugh, bending down to adjust the heat on the water.

  “I’m saying there’s no reason for me to freak out because I want to marry you. I think, you know, we should get married.”

  My hand stops dead on the tap, and I crick my neck to catch his expression. He’s gone from red wine to white in the blink of an eye, water dripping from his dark hair down his forehead, and he frantically wipes it away. Then he reaches for me, pulls me up against him, hiding his face.

  “Um . . . what did you just say?” I croak, my heart suddenly beating out of my skull. A tidal wave rushes through my stomach, and my nails dig into his shoulders to make sure I’m not dreaming or something.

  He slowly backs away from my neck, eyes wide as grapefruits. “I didn’t mean . . . oh shit . . . it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  He falls forward, pushing me against the cold tile and hitting his forehead on the wall near my cheek.

  “What wasn’t supposed to happen?” I ask through a small laugh. Seconds ago, he was boast
ing about not freaking out, and now he’s gone bat crazy.

  “I had it all planned,” he grumbles into the tile. The echoes bounce off my shoulder. “I even bought a suit. Outside patio dinner, clear night for stars . . . I was going to pull out all the romantic stops, and it just falls out when we’re in the shower.”

  “Landon, are you being serious? I can never tell.”

  “Because I’m never serious?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine, and a nervous twitch pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

  My heart’s still thumping through my brain.

  “The test was negative, Landon,” I try to joke, but it comes out wobbly. “You don’t have to—”

  “I know.” His palms cradle my face, drops of water falling from his eyelashes. “Will you marry me?”

  His misty lips make contact with my nose. I’m still trying to process if he’s serious or not.

  “Really? This isn’t because of that pregnancy test is it?”

  “I was planning on asking a few weeks ago. Cross my heart, the ring’s been in this apartment for at least a month.”

  My eyes flick back and forth between his, searching, searching, searching for a lie, a joke, a tease, something. But it’s all honesty and nerves and love. So much love I find myself slipping on the wall, losing strength in my knees.

  “You are serious.”

  “I love you, Liz. Marry me? Please?”

  I feel a smile tug on my mouth. The water’s getting too cold to stay underneath, but my body temperature rises, my skin boiling under his touch. I grip his forearms, holding myself steady while he continues to cup my cheeks.

  I love every bit of this man, every piece of his heart and soul and mind and body. So even though I wasn’t expecting it this way, even though I was just internally moaning about not getting any spontaneous loving, I practically shout my answer at him.