The Other F-Word

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The Other F-Word Page 1

by MK Schiller




  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  The Other F-Word

  ISBN # 978-0-85715-667-9

  ©Copyright MK Schiller 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2014

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 1.

  In Other Words

  THE OTHER F-WORD

  MK Schiller

  Book two in The Other Words series

  Damien Wolfe is ferociously sexy. Emmie Mason is fastidiously stubborn. When fate brings them together, they are both challenged by the other F-word…forever.

  Fashionable forty-four-year-old, Emmie Mason is content with her fastidious life. She has everything she needs in her loving family and friends. Her eldest daughter, Marley, has married the man of her dreams, and she has a new grandchild. What more could a woman ask for?

  She isn’t prepared for fate to slap her in the face in the form of a bridal bouquet. Or worse, to run into the fantasy-inducing, eye-catching, panty-dropping, swoon-worthy man she’s been thinking about for over a year, even though they only danced together once.

  As it turns out, thirty-year-old real estate mogul Damien Wolfe has been thinking about her too. Damien’s flirty, funny and forthright personality challenges Emmie and tilts her world. But it’s his kind soul and compassionate demeanour that really frighten her.

  He’s easy to fall for, but how could she ever recover if she risked her heart to him? Can they both overcome their fears and commit to that other F-word…Forever?

  Dedication

  Dear fellow romance lover, thank you for picking up my book. I hope you enjoy Damien and Emmie’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. There are many people whose support made this work possible. Thank you to Totally Bound for believing in my work and my diligent editor, Rebecca Douglas for her mad skills. Thank you to my loving family, Pat, Nicole, Justin, Mom and Dad for all their support and living with all the sacrifices of having an absentee member while I was focused on the spell of Damien Wolfe. Thank you to my beta readers for your feedback and suggestions. Thank you to the amazing artists whose music inspired me while writing this tale (no need to be specific—all titles are listed throughout the book). Thank you to all the readers who continue to support Indie authors like myself, and vesting your valuable time on our work. Keep reading and never stop looking for your happily ever after!

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  We Belong: Pat Benatar, written by Lowen & Navarro

  Single Ladies: Beyoncé, Columbia Records

  iPod: Apple, Inc.

  Christian Louboutin: Christian Louboutin

  Porn Star Dancing: My Darkest Days

  Climb Up On My Music: Rodriguez

  Jessie: Joshua Kadison

  The Rolling Stones: The Rolling Stones

  9 to 5: Dolly Parton

  Californication: Red Hot Chili Peppers

  Forever in Blue Jeans: Neil Diamond

  Rocky Horror: The Rocky Horror Picture Show, 20th Century Fox

  London Bridge: Fergie, written by Stacy Ferguson, Jamal Jones, Sean Garrett & Mike Hartnett

  Hey Jude: The Beatles, written by Lennon-McCartney

  The Post-American World: Fareed Zakana, W. W. Norton & Company

  Love Bites: Def Leppard, written by Joe Elliott, Phil Collen, Steve Clark, Rick Savage & Robert John ‘Mutt’ Lange

  Habitat for Humanity: Habitat for Humanity International

  Detroit Tigers: Detroit Tigers

  Chicago Cubs: Chicago Cubs

  Country Girl: Luke Bryan, Dallas Davidson

  Cocky: Kid Rock, written by Beauregard, Ritchie & Shaffer

  Step Up: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

  Magic Mike: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

  Hips Don’t Lie: Shakira, Wyclef Jean, Jerry ‘Wonder’ Duplessis, Omar Alfanno & LaTavia Parker

  Believer: American Authors

  iTunes: Apple, Inc

  Love Song: Sara Bareilles

  I Will Wait: Mumford & Sons, written by Marcus Mumford

  Let it Be: The Beatles, written by Lennon-McCartney

  We Can Work it Out: The Beatles, written by Lennon-McCartney

  Sorry: Buckcherry, written by Josh Todd, Keith Nelson & Marti Frederiksen

  Crazy Bitch: Buckcherry, written by Josh Todd & Keith Nelson

  A Beautiful Mess: Jason Mraz, Mona Tavakoli, Chaska Potter, Mai Bloomfield & Becky Gebhardt

  The North Face: The North Face, Inc.

  Wasting Time: Kid Rock, written by R.J. Ritchie, M. Shafer & L. Buckingham

  Collide: Kid Rock, with Sheryl Crow and Bob Seger

  Mrs Robinson: Simon & Garfunkel, written by Paul Simon

  The Graduate: Embassy Pictures

  About a Girl: Nirvana, written by Kurt Cobain

  Polo: Ralph Lauren Corporation

  Stepford: Ira Levin/Paramount Pictures

  Whatever You Like: T.I., written by Clifford Harris, James Scheffer & David Siegel

  Die Hard: 20th Century Fox

  Rambo: David Morrell/Orion Pictures

  Like Janice: Rodriguez

  To Whom it May Concern: Rodriguez

  Crucify Your Mind: Rodriguez

  I Think of You: Rodri
guez

  I Wanna Talk About Me: Toby Keith, written by Bobby Braddock

  Seven Nation Army: White Stripes, written by Jack White

  I Won’t Be Long: Beck

  Sex Pistols: Sex Pistols

  Kryptonite: Superman, DC Comics

  Green Bay Packers: Green Bay Packers

  Christian Grey: E.L. James

  SexyBack: Justin Timberlake, Tim Mosley & Nate ‘Danja’ Hills

  Piece of My Heart: Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company, written by Jerry Ragovoy & Bert Berns

  A Place in the Sun: Paramount Pictures

  Wall Street: 20th Century Fox

  Gold Digger: Kanye West, Ray Charles & Renald Richard

  Dynasty: CBS Television Distribution

  Wish You Were Here: Pink Floyd, written by Roger Waters & David Gilmour

  Hey Mama: Mat Kearny & Jason Lehning

  Hungry Like the Wolf: Duran Duran

  Superman: DC Comics

  Harry Potter: JK Rowling

  Dracula: Bram Stoker

  Sherlock Holmes/Watson: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  The Thorn Birds: Colleen McCullough

  Willy Wonka: Roald Dahl

  The Mad Hatter: Lewis Carroll

  Pennies from Heaven: Columbia Pictures

  Swing Time: RKO Radio Pictures

  The Three Stooges: Columbia Pictures:

  James Bond: Ian Fleming

  Gatsby: F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Mambo No. 5: Lou Bega, written by Dámaso Pérez Prado

  Feels Good at First: Train, written by Monahan & Allen Shamblin

  One Love: Bob Marley and the Wailers, written by Bob Marley & Curtis Mayfield

  Home Alone: 20th Century Fox

  KFC: Yum! Brands, Inc.

  Pizza Hut: Pizza Hut, Inc.

  China Palace: China Palace

  Here Comes the Sun: The Beatles, written by George Harrison

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Pucci: Emilio Pucci

  Frisbee: Wham-O Toys, Inc.

  Chapter One

  A child’s happiness is a mother’s joy. Today there was no shortage of joy. It was seeping out of my pores, or maybe those were tears. She was a vision of perfection in white organza and antique lace. Even the simple infinity tattoo that graced her right shoulder looked elegant. She told me it matched up with his when he stood behind her. I blinked, fighting back the salty drops threatening to ruin my makeup—Stevie would go into a rampage. “You look so beautiful, honey.”

  Marley turned to me, head over her shoulder, ten shades of blonde done up in sophisticated, shiny curls and pale blue eyes that were as crystal clear as Lake Michigan on a sunny day. “Thanks, Mom.”

  I took her hand in mine. “I’m so proud of you,” I said in a quiet whisper.

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening. It still feels like a dream…the good kind.”

  I embraced her then, feeling all the emotions of the past year in that one hug. Marley had had so many challenges in her life. As a mother, her pain was mine to bear. It came with many sleepless nights, and years of guilt weighing on my shoulders like an anchor that wouldn’t yield. She’d never once blamed me for any of it, but I had enough guilt for both of us. Not today, though. Today was all about happiness and hope. Today she was marrying a man who cherished her. One who loved her so much, he’d fight all her demons with her…for her.

  “Damn, I can’t believe they forgot the white roses in your bouquet,” Stevie grumbled, bringing us all back to the present. She’d kept Marley on track for the wedding, but she was grating on everyone’s nerves with her Nazi bridal planning. Still, looking at Marley in her strapless A-line gown, it seemed worth it.

  “I don’t care, Stevie. The orchids are fine by themselves.”

  “That’s not the point. This has to be perfect,” Stevie said, smoothing out her long, chestnut-coloured hair that matched mine.

  Marley narrowed her eyes and sighed so hard the golden locks on her forehead flew, even though Dillon had sprayed them down. “Listen, I’ve had about enough of your crap. I don’t care about the flowers.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Someone needs to care.” Stevie adjusted the black satin halter dress Marley had picked out. I had an inkling it was Stevie who’d actually picked them out—she was my bossy girl. “If it was up to you, we’d all be in jeans right now.”

  “You guys cut it out already,” Billie interjected, trying to feign authority as the maid of honour.

  A mother’s job was never done and it was time for me to step in. “Both of you cut it out, or I’ll send you to your separate corners for a timeout.”

  “You can’t give me a timeout on my wedding day.”

  “You may be getting married, but I am your mother and I most certainly can. You know Stevie only wants today to be perfect for you. And Stevie, you know Marley’s not fussy about the details like you are.”

  They stared at each other like two fighters assessing each other in the ring, but I could see their frustration dissipate as quickly as it had begun. These were my daughters and I knew them like the back of my hand.

  Marley’s mouth crinkled in a smile. “How come you always have to get your way?”

  Stevie crossed her arms and looked down at the designer stilettos on her feet. “I didn’t get everything. The tomboy in you always wins despite how much I try to make you a lady.”

  “What does that mean?” Billie asked.

  Both girls smiled and the miniature battle was over. Marley lifted the hem of her dress. We all stared, slightly in awe at the gleaming white combat boots strung with fancy lace bows that adorned her feet. They were feminine and tough. They were Marley.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Billie widened her eyes.

  “Where in the world did you get those?” I smirked.

  “Stevie went to a hundred different places and finally found someone to dye a pair for me. They were a surprise.”

  Stevie and Marley were like oil and water, but don’t all good recipes need both ingredients? All three of my girls could bicker. At the end of the day though, they were the best of friends and if one was hurt, the others would come after you, with me leading the pack.

  “I love them,” I said.

  “Me too,” Billie admitted.

  Stevie hugged Marley, careful not to press too close to her dress. “This is you, Marley—fancy dress and combat boots. French manicure and a fist that could punch through steel. I don’t know any other girl who could pull off that combination.”

  Both girls stared at each other, lips quivering, threatening to give away to the sobs of happiness that this moment was bringing all of us.

  “Don’t you dare cry!” Dillon said, startling all of us. He slammed the door shut then strode over to us. He looked so handsome in his black suit complete with skinny tie, reminiscent of an earlier time. “Lean your head back so the tears don’t wipe off your make-up. Both of you.”

  He’d started out as Marley’s best friend, but we all loved him. As far as I was concerned, he was my son. I’d symbolically adopted him the moment he’d told me his parents had disowned him for what they referred to as his ‘lifestyle choices’.

  “How’s Rick?” Marley inquired as Dillon wiped the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

  “He’s nervous.”

  “He is?” The alarm in Marley’s voice caused it to waver.

  It was hard to believe—Rick was composed and confident in all things. He fit into our family seamlessly as Stevie’s husband, Adam, did. They were also my sons.

  Dillon shrugged. “I think he’s afraid you’re gonna be a runaway bride. He sent me in here to check on you.”

  “He doesn’t have to worry about that. That man couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.”

  “Good thing he doesn’t want to.” Dillon reached into his pocket, taking out several Zesty bars. Rick had introduced us to the protein bars, and we all loved them. I think our family single handedly supported the compa
ny now. “I thought we could have a last minute dish session before he makes an honest woman out of you,” he said, throwing a bar to each of us.

  “That’ll never happen,” Billie said.

  “Thanks, Dills.” Marley squeezed his arm.

  “Dish…the girls in this family make beautiful brides,” he said.

  Stevie smiled gratefully. It was just a little over a year ago that we’d been celebrating her wedding to Adam. That was Dillon. He always came up with the right thing to say to make a girl smile.

  “Dish…I think I’m the happiest mother there ever was right now,” I said, the tears burning my eyes. Dillon was right there with his monogrammed handkerchief, faintly fragranced with expensive cologne.

  “Okay, dish is a bad idea right now,” Stevie said.

  “Personally, I’m glad to be here with you chicks. Rick is kind of grumpy.”

  That was surprising. Rick always had a sweet smile, especially for my daughter. Come to think of it, Marley was being grumpy too. I’d attributed that to pre-wedding jitters.

  We all honed in on Marley’s wry smile. “Dish,” we said in unison.

  She turned to the mirror, adjusting her veil. “We decided to forgo dessert this week.”

  “And by dessert, you mean—”

  “Yes, Dills, I mean sex. We haven’t even kissed. We thought it would be more special if we waited, like the first time. Rick gets agitated when he’s denied gratification.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Billie said in a low voice.

  “Well, let’s get the show on the road then so you can get to it,” Dillon said, patting Marley on the back.

  This was an odd conversation. Then again we weren’t the most traditional family. We loved unconditionally, and at times, unconventionally, but we were there for each other.

  Dillon went back to be with Rick and the other groomsman. The girls and I made our way down the stairs to the gardens of the Wilston hotel, where Marley and Rick would say their vows under a canopy of golden stars and aromatic gardenias.

  I took her arm, readying to give her that last piece of motherly advice. It wasn’t my style to tell my girls how to live their lives—I was just there to hold them up so they wouldn’t fall, pick them up when they did and help them walk with their heads held high. I’d bitten my tongue so much with Marley, I was surprised it was still attached in my mouth.

 

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