by Joy Penny
That’s not how it works, responded Gavin. Lilac, open your mind already.
Brielle shook her head and readjusted her butt against the hood of the van so she was sitting on the pile and it couldn’t escape her. Guys, she typed, can we let Pembroke talk please?
She took a little while to respond. I still don’t want sex, she wrote. But I don’t know… I kind of like kissing. Maybe someday. Maybe with them.
“Them”? asked Gavin.
Shell-shocked, Brielle immediately thought of some sort of ménage à trois.
Pembroke didn’t answer. Archer chose that moment to continue his own text conversation with her. Where are you? he asked. I’m getting worried.
In the parking lot, Brielle typed back quickly. Be right there.
I told you she was gay, said Lilac in her other conversation. Oh, so not two people, maybe just withholding the gender of the person? Brielle wasn’t sure if Lilac had ever guessed Pembroke was gay, but maybe she had with Gavin in a private conversation.
Not quite, wrote Pembroke, texting almost immediately. Romantic ace. I don’t have the rest defined.
The rest? asked Brielle, genuinely curious.
Questioning, typed both Gavin and Pembroke at once. Brielle figured they’d know better than she would, so she decided to let it go and wait until Pembroke felt like explaining more.
In any case… Glad to hear! Happy for you. Brielle cracked her neck. It was getting sore from all the weird gymnastics she was doing to pay attention to her phone and the mountain of paperwork currently beneath her buttocks.
Yeah. Good for you. Lilac seemed to be biting her tongue, which was probably the best one could hope for from her. She probably thought she’d hold the “told you so” until Pembroke revealed whatever it was she was holding back.
ANYWAY, typed Gavin. I’m super happy for Pem, but I wanted all three of you here at once to ask you one thing: Will you be my groomsmaids? Boyfriends, partners, and dorky mascots welcome to come as guests.
The screen practically went blank for a minute.
SHUT UP, said Lilac. How could you not tell me you were getting married?
Holy cow, wrote Pembroke. You just started dating!
Um, yes! typed Brielle. She noticed no one else was actually answering his question. Not that she wasn’t shocked, but Gavin deserved happiness more than any of them.
…So only Brielle is going to stand beside me? Gavin added a frowny face.
UM, I’M THE MAID OF HONOR, RIGHT? typed Lilac. Of course she’d be the one to ask that.
I’d love to! wrote Pembroke.
Congrats, added Brielle. A door opened and she lifted her head up on instinct. Send more details soon, she added. Sorry, got to go!
She finally shoved her phone into her purse and that was going to be the end of it for the next few hours at least.
“I didn’t think my van qualified as one of those hot cars sexy models pose on,” said Archer as he wheeled closer. “But I think the right hood ornament can make any car sexy.”
“Oh, be quiet, you,” said Brielle, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and bending down to kiss his forehead. She struggled to keep her papers under her other arm. “Putting on a clown routine trying to keep all these papers from blowing away hardly qualifies as ‘sexy.’”
“Says you.” Archer grabbed her around the waist and brought her closer. Her folder almost dropped again and he reached forward to catch it, laying it flat on his lap so he could grab her with both arms. “Have a nice day?” he asked, leaning up for a quick kiss.
“Yeah,” she said. “And it’s even better now.” She was practically toppling over, but leaning in for that second, longer kiss was worth it.
“Flatterer,” said Archer, but that didn’t stop him from squeezing her tightly.
Since she was about to topple over or fall onto his lap—which might have been his goal, now that she thought about it, even if they were in the middle of the parking lot and the chilly weather wasn’t exactly inviting—she pulled back. “You’ve got to show me.”
Wincing, Archer cocked his head. “You sure you don’t want more kisses first?”
“I’ll get those later,” said Brielle, arching an eyebrow. “And maybe more than that if you’re up for it today.”
“You can’t seriously not know the answer to that…”
She ignored him. “But you can’t just tease me like that and not show me.”
He sighed, gripping his wheels and turning around to head back to his condo. “All right, all right. If you’d rather look at some drawings than my naked torso, then I guess that’s what we’ll do.”
“Har har,” she said. “I’m not even going to stroke your ego and tell you what you already know I think about said torso.”
“Okay,” he said, pushing the door open. “I’ll settle for you stroking something else after we’ve had a bite to eat.”
“You dirty little charmer,” said Brielle, kicking her shoes off and dropping her purse behind the door. The fact was, she loved it. When Daniel had “talked dirty” to her, it was just gross—he was just gross. But any time Archer opened his mouth, she felt a warm flush throughout her body from head to toe, so she didn’t care how dirty those words were. In fact, she really liked the boost of confidence it seemed to give him. More confidence equaled less rudeness. She still caught him snapping at anyone he didn’t know who dared to disturb his little work sanctuary, like the plumber he’d had to hire when his sink had overflowed. Luckily, she’d been there to knock some sense into him.
“Act like they’re all your fans,” she’d said. It seemed good enough advice, since he put on a million-dollar-smile for them. “And stop acting like everyone who walks through your front door is an invader.”
He could still be grumpy sometimes. When his muscles ached, when he didn’t feel well, when the physical therapy was too much or he’d pushed his limits and walked too far. But she knew how to put a smile on his face. And he was starting to become her surly guy. So long as she reminded him that the people he was taking it out on had nothing to do with how he was feeling and hardly deserved it, he’d lighten up. All it took was reminding him how terrified she’d been of him the first time they’d met.
“Let me see, let me see!” She bounced as she followed him to his drafting table and computer desk, where he tossed her papers. He’d been working on the sequel to Wheels for months—said he didn’t even care if his The Mystified publisher didn’t want it (they did, it turned out, and they also wanted to rerelease the first volume), that he’d wanted to draw it for her—and he hadn’t let her even peek at it until it’d gotten to this stage. His publisher had sent over a draft complete with inks, colors, and text, and there it was, waiting on his computer screen, open to the first page.
Brielle grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and rushed over to the screen.
“There are still some editorial notes to go through,” said Archer. “I mean, I thought we had it finalized, but someone higher up got a look at it—I mean, the changes are minor—”
“Uh-uh.” Brielle held her hand up and squeezed her fingers together like she was puppeteering her hand so he would shut his trap. “You’re finally letting me read this. Give me silence.”
He guffawed and wheeled a short distance away to the drafting table. She heard him pick up a pencil and start sketching, but she could tell just from the sound alone that he wasn’t being serious about his work. He seemed to be dragging his pencil in a circle over and over again.
She read Wheels volume two. She laughed and she squealed and she was actually crying by the end.
Covering her mouth, she turned around to face Archer with tears in her eyes. “You adorable little talented… Thank you!” She scooched her own chair closer so she could throw her arms around his shoulders and kiss him on the cheek.
“Are you my girlfriend or my mother?” he asked, smirking, staring down at his pencil sketches of circles.
“Ew, mood-ruiner,” said Brielle, l
aughing.
In Wheels 2 (subtitle to be determined, as Archer kept telling her), Todd had fallen in love. With a house cleaner. His little squirrel approved, but Todd kept trying to tell himself not to follow his heart. Because he wasn’t worthy of her. Because he was a burden. Because she had dreams that would take her out of his orbit.
And he let himself fall in love with her anyway.
Brielle had known Archer loved her, but she hadn’t quite known how much. Hadn’t known what he’d been feeling while she’d been worried about the direction her life was going in.
Hadn’t known how much she’d really have missed out on had she left and gone somewhere else.
“Then how about you kiss me like my girlfriend would?”
That smile of his. Oh my god, that smile.
Brielle jumped up so she could climb onto his lap, forcing him to back up from the table so she could squeeze between them. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and neck, her legs kicking off the other side of his wheelchair, her thigh squished tight against the drafting table. She could feel him get hard almost as soon as she sat down, and he turned red as she shimmied and shifted into a more comfortable position. To tell the truth, she kept shimmying a bit more than she had to once she saw the effect it had on him. “This is how you drew Todd and Angie,” she said, referring to her counterpart in the comic.
“I almost asked you if you’d model it for me,” he said. “But then I couldn’t see it from this vantage point anyway.”
“We could have set up a camera on a timer,” said Brielle, huskily, softly, peppering his neck with kisses.
“But then that would have given away the ending,” he said, nuzzling his stubble against her cheek.
“Well, you could have asked me to do it without the picture and counted it as a little empirical study,” she said, beaming.
Even though it was unlikely he’d ever need to draw characters kissing in that position again, she made sure he got a lot of empirical study.
About the Author
Joy Penny writes books, devours stories, and geeks out about everything from classic romance books to manga. When she’s not working as a freelance writer and book editor, she’s probably immersed in her favorite TV shows, period dramas, and anime series. She also writes YA speculative fiction as Amy McNulty, and one of her books, Nobody’s Goddess, won The Romance Reviews’ Summer 2016 Readers’ Choice Award for Young Adult Romance.
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Graduating Uni, travelling Europe and buying her own place - these are on Megan Green's to-do list. At just twenty-two, becoming a mother isn't.
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After a chance meeting and passionate encounter, Megan finds herself pregnant with Kian's child. But with a womanizing reputation and a temper that often leads him into trouble, Kian is hardly boyfriend material, let alone father material.
Now Megan and Kian must work out if they have All It Takes to turn their one-night stand into a relationship that will connect them for a lifetime.
All It Takes is a dual-POV new adult, contemporary romance about responsibility, love and discovering who you are in life.
Available for preorder on Kindle.
In this retelling of Shakespeare’s timeless classic, Patricia’s dream is coming true: she is directing her own play, a one-act written by her best friend, Grizz, for the school’s annual Drama Festival. Everything seems to be perfect until her teacher assigns Kurt Minola, the biggest jerk in the school, to work on her play. Kurt is lazy, selfish and irresponsible. The only good thing about him is his attractive twin brother, Ben—but even he can’t seem to change Kurt’s attitude. Kurt’s presence turns Patricia’s dream into a nightmare… until Patricia and Grizz decide to take matters into their own hands, and subject this insufferable surfer-dude to some taming.
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A Love for the Pages
Chapter One Preview
I just stepped off the train this morning, and already by the afternoon I’m a soccer mom. Well, the ‘game’ is track and field, not soccer, and Mom sold the Caravan while I was gone and replaced it with this compact sedan, but it’s basically the same thing. I’m sitting here in the car parked with four vans one way and three vans the other, just another woman here to pick up her kid. Okay, my brother isn’t ‘my kid,’ either. I’m a track and field sister, not a soccer mom. The point is, I’m already counting the days until summer is over. Huh. Never thought I’d say that. At least I didn’t before college, anyway.
I get a glance every few seconds through the space between two bleachers of one scrawny high schooler after the other stumbling across the track, his arms scrunched against his chest, his mouth open in probably stilted breaths. If pressed to admit it, such a sight used to excite me. Now they all seem like little boys. I unscrew the bottle cap on my lemon tea and take a swig with one hand, rifling through my purse with the other. I find what I’m looking for and slip the well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice onto my lap. I open it one-handed to the page with the most recently bent corner, the book flopping open easily thanks to the wrinkles of the multiple creases peppering the spine. I take another drink, my gaze hitting the corner of my Kindle case sticking out of my purse on the passenger seat. A hundred e-books and counting, and one of my three beat-to-a-pulp favorites are almost always in my hand in those moments between doing something and doing something else. “Now maybe you can get rid of the books taking up all that space in your room.” Mom beamed as she handed me the graduation gift—it was definitely thoughtful of her. Surprisingly thoughtful. Until Mr. Wonderful opened his mouth and revealed it was less about celebrating my interests and more about being practical, as usual. “You can’t bring a bookshelf to a dorm. You’re going to share the space with someone new, and it’s rude to bring a bunch of junk that’ll just take up space.” Cooper always seemed to forget I was rooming with Deana. Still, he had a point. The books stayed behind mostly. Except for the three books practically starting to disintegrate.
There’s a pounding at my window. I jump, sloshing the open tea bottle all over my lap—all over my book. I scream and am rewarded with muffled laughter. I slam the bottle into the cup holder and am ready to shoot Owen my most ‘you’re moronic’ look and immediately feel my face flush as I come face-to-face with Sinjin through the driver’s side window. I look away quickly, like staring at the steering wheel and ignoring the drops of tea on my lap will make the whole situation disappear. There’s more laughter from the other side of the car and more pounding, too. I just keep staring ahead.
“Open up!”
I snap out of it, flicking the unlock button on my side and crossing my arms as Owen opens the back passenger door and tosses his filthy gym bag onto the back seat. I can’t bring myself to look to see if Sinjin is still standing there, but even so, I feel this presence, like the shivers running down my spine are my own Spidey sense warning me, “He’s here. He’s here. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Too late for that.
“Yo, earth to Spoon! Guess you killed her, SJ.” I hate when Owen calls him that. I hate when Owen calls me Spoon. No one else needs to turn every name on the planet into something new.
My own personal your-ex-boyfriend-okay-you-just-went-to-three-dances-together-and-never-officially-became-an-item-so-is-that-really-an-ex-boyfriend-is-nearby Spidey sense relaxes—and where exactly was that superpower before he pounded on the car window?—and I breathe a sigh of relief. I suddenly
remember my wounded (paperback) warrior on my lap and scramble for the Kleenex box on the floor behind the seat, grabbing one tissue after another in painstaking single serve doses, and I look up just in time to see Sinjin bumping his fist against Owen’s shoulder, laughing, smiling that chiseled Greek-god smile that lights up his gorgeous dark skin, and I freeze again.
“Hey, how’s it going, June?” Sinjin runs a hand through his short black hair and speaks to me casually, as if we see each other regularly, even though we haven’t seen each other for months—that little blip over Spring Break while hanging with Margot and Deana hardly counts. His tone gives no indication I’m a laughing stock for falling head over heels at first sight with my best friends’ brother. My best friends’ younger brother. My best friends’ he-was-a-freshman-and-I-was-a-junior-the-first-time-I-saw-him-but-how-was-I-to-know-since-he-just-transferred-in younger brother.
I will my hand to finish pulling the fifth tissue out of the box and add it to the crumpled wad forming in my fist. “Great,” I lie, mumbling.
Owen finds this hilarious. But Owen finds most things to do with me hilarious. I’m so glad to see the last few weeks haven’t changed him. As if somehow when I felt like I’d aged a decade as I was cramming like mad for finals and writing half a dozen papers, the world would have also progressed a dozen years and I could look forward to finding a far more mature brother when I got home for more than the occasional weekend visit. No such luck.
Sinjin walks away, and I twist myself back into my seat and dab my book and lap with the tissues. Okay, good. Bye. Take your Greek-god smile and your smooth, silky, gorgeous jet black hair to some other hapless victim.
The passenger door opens beside me. “I’m sorry about that.” Sinjin pokes his head in. I cringe and do my best to smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just didn’t notice us beside the car. Here, let me—” He scoops my purse up and lays it on the dashboard, climbing onto the seat. His fingers disappear around his side as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small washcloth.
