Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Kelly
2. Damon
3. Kelly
4. Kelly
5. Kelly
6. Damon
7. Kelly
8. Kasper
9. Kelly
10. Dean
11. Kasper
12. Kelly
13. Kelly
14. Kelly
15. Kasper
16. Kelly
17. Kelly
18. Dean
19. Kasper
20. Kelly
21. Kelly
22. Kelly
23. Kelly
24. Kelly
Monster - Prologue
Monster - Chapter One
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Erica Andrews
Copyright 2018 Erica Andrews
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Cover design 2018
Cover design by Probook Premade Book Cover
www.premade-bookcovers.com
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Editing: Erica Collins
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Formatting:Gina Wynn
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any matter without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited.
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales are completely coincidence.
Acknowledgments
Book 2 is here! Well I guess you know that, but I had to say it anyways. Now for me to thank everyone for helping because it really does take more than one person to write a book. So thank you Erica, my betas, my cover artist, and Riley Walker for calming down when I didn’t know if it would get finished or be any good. Haha.
And most of all thank you readers for giving this newbie author a chance.
Sincerely yours
Erica Andrews
One
Kelly
1. After so many days of not showering, you started to stink.
2. You could only eat so much ice cream until you got sick.
3. Dogs are a woman’s best friend, not man’s. Whoever said that was stupid.
Three weeks, it’s been three whole weeks.
Since the utter chaos that was Camille came in and wrecked everything. Three weeks since I’d seen my boys. My boys, or the boys – what did I call them now? I still wasn’t sure.
I mean, I was the one, who on that fated day, after seeing Camille all over Damon told them to not call me again.
I was the one who, when they texted me, I ignored them.
I was the one who blocked their phone calls when they didn’t listen and kept calling.
I was the one who ignored them when they knocked on the door. Or when the doorbell rang when they came by.
I was also the one who couldn’t get the picture of Camille on Damon’s lap out of my mind.
Groggy and out of sorts I was still hungover from the weeks of my diet mainly consisting of ice cream, Bailey’s, and whatever hadn’t expired in the fridge.
Which I would never recommend.
Still, today I was better than I had been three weeks ago. So, I got up.
Slowly.
The first week after the catastrophe that was my life, I could admit to maybe a few skipped showers and indulging in my fair share of cookie dough ice cream, because what other flavor was there?
But after the ice cream revolted and told me no more, I finally had to come to grips with the reality that I needed to shower, and that the ice cream and Bailey’s diet wasn’t cutting it.
The second week, while now showering regularly, I still didn’t want to venture out. I had taken on the preferred lifestyle of a vampire. Dark, and alone with only my puppy for comfort. Insomnia at this point had become my old friend. If only he could buy more wine…
By the third week, I had decided to take the plunge and leave my vampiric hideaway.
Okay, well maybe decided was the wrong word. Forced would be an accurate description as it was go out or allow my stomach to turn in on itself because the only thing left in my refrigerator was orange juice that had a smell that made my eyes water and had started to clump.
Not to mention my once favorite food, besides doughnuts, which is bacon, had decided it was growing its own garden of green mold on their tips. Delicious. And contrary to popular belief you couldn’t eat bacon that was green and looked funny.
Believe me, I knew people who’d tried, and it didn’t end well.
So, here I was, ready to take on the world.
Or at least Hazelton.
I’d showered, I’d dressed, and I’d eaten. Well, I’d kind of eaten. If you considered an energy bar breakfast, which of course I didn’t. The little kernels stuck in your teeth and you could break a tooth trying to gnaw on certain pieces. I missed my doughnuts, the yummy gooey sugar filled sweets. They comforted me. Or used to.
I couldn’t bring myself to eat them after the Camille incident. In the grocery store last week, I sought them out and instead of happiness, all I felt was the residual anger and hurt from three weeks ago. The bitch had officially ruined doughnuts for me. Not even Trevor could do that. Snow White Bitch. Back to the point at hand, now I was on my way to the library. On a mission. I know, I know! Nothing major, but baby steps must be taken first. Since the incident– that shall not be named– I’d decided to join a book club, or I was going to try to join a book club. Because without the boys I hated to admit. I was kind of lonely. Very lonely.
Besides, I needed to find some new girlfriends. Girl power, right? Since I had left Alabama, I hadn’t talked to any of my old ones. Let’s face it, as soon as I crossed over the border into Tennessee, I failed to be a priority to them anymore. I became nonexistent.
Once in the car I drove toward the library. This was good, I loved books and well, I couldn’t be a vampire forever. Could I?
It wouldn’t take long to arrive at my final destination, since it was literally five minutes from the house. Three minutes from the guys’ garage. Not that I’d driven by there recently and timed it. That would be slightly stalkerish. And I was the epitome of what a healthy break up looked like.
I was also a bad liar.
Further into town, the library slowly came into view. The library sat by the town hall in the center of town, both previously destroyed in the nineteen eighty-five tornadoes. I pulled into the parking lot, my eyes taking in the giant buildings that sat side by side in all their granite and white marble glory. They stood out like Roman Cathedrals amongst the older worn red brick buildings that had seen better days. Nerves jittery at the idea of making new friends, I gathered my courage while I unbuckled my seat belt to head inside. Still in my head and not paying attention to what was going on around me, I jumped back clumsily as the front door opened mere inches from my face. Well, this day was off to a good start; almost being creamed by the door. I could see the headline now...death by automatic door. I’m sure it would make national news. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, I ducked my head refusing to make eye contact with the passerbyers that entered the library the same time I did. I was determined to not acknowledge what had just happened.
Once passed the entry way I finally looked up at the vast library, the smell of old books drifting towards my nose. I loved that smell.
My eyes scanned for the library aide on duty, secretly hoping to see the familiar face of the elderly lady who had hel
ped me previously with my DIY books. But she was nowhere to be seen.
I went further into the building, the smell of baby powder drifted towards my nose making it twitch, and the screams from the children’s corner caused me to cringe at the glass shattering scream of twenty toddlers.
Better them than me.
At least for now.
First I needed the man before kids. Or men…
I really needed thoughts better left alone out of mind. I walked up to the lady at the desk, who I finally noticed sitting behind the computer. At first glance the aide seemed to be about forty, with the soccer mom persona down to her monogrammed shirt. Upon closer inspection though she was actually quite a bit younger, just hiding it all behind glasses and overly baggy clothes. Hmm… project? Maybe after I got my shit together. My shadow descended upon her computer causing her to have no choice but to turn her attention towards me. Oops.
Making eye contact with her, I cleared my throat and tried for my sweetest voice as I said, “Ma’am, I’m here to sign up for the book club. It is today isn’t it?”
There, that was good, how could anyone resist my Southern charm? No one that’s who.
Grabbing a sheet of paper and pen, she barely takes her eyes off the computer in front of her. “Are you sure you want to join the book club? It’s not your ordinary book club ya know.”
I guess she was the one who could resist. Fine, no makeover for you lady.
Nodding my head, I realized she still wasn’t looking at me, so I answered, “Yes, I actually just moved here about two months ago and was wanting to meet people I had things in common with. And since I like reading so much, well I figured I’d have something in common with them.”
I finished signing my name and handed the paper and pen back to the aide. Finally, looking up from her very interesting computer she eyed me curiously. “Well, I don’t know what you’ll have in common with them, but it’ll definitely be interesting.”
With that vague comment she turned away, pointing to the stairs that I had failed to notice tucked off to the side.
“Take those up to the third floor, the girls should already be up there. And just in case, I’m sorry in advance.”
Turning away from the stairs, I glanced back at the aide who was already back on her computer, which I guess was more interesting than me. “Why are you saying sorry?”
She huffed out a breath and took her time to again glance away from the computer. Raising her eyebrows at my question, she nodded again towards the stairs, saying mysteriously, “Oh, you’ll see.”
Not waiting for my reply as she once again focused back on her computer, I smiled anyways, saying, “Well thank you so much, but I think I’ll be fine.”
Thoroughly dismissed, I headed for the stairs already dreading the three flights. Why couldn’t they put an elevator on this side of the library? God, I hoped these women weren’t health nuts because I didn’t think this friendship would last. I was more of a metaphorical runner not an actual runner. Kickboxing, yes. Running, no.
SNAP. CRACKLE. CREAK.
God the things I’d do for an elevator. As I pushed myself up the last few steps I began to hear the yelling. Who would be yelling in a library?
“No one says bosom anymore ya daft cow!”
Wait. What?
At the top of the stairs I turned the corner and followed the vulgar voice. Surely this wasn’t the book club. Though the vague comments from the aide downstairs were starting to make sense. Around the corner I saw a series of round tables with lights in the middle of them that reminded me of a war room of yesteryear. Not far past them were four big red overstuffed chairs that looked to have come from the Victorian era. And sitting in those chairs were four elderly women. Though their ages could have ranged from fifty to a hundred from where I was standing.
“Yes, they do, you twatwaffle, you just said it. Bosom, Bosom, BOSOM!!! Stuff that down your throat!”
The reality of the situation was staring me in the face. This was the Book Club. I made my way past the tables, walking toward the ladies in red chairs. My trepidation rose the closer I got, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into and if I could change my mind.
Too busy in their argument of whether bosom or breast was acceptable, they failed to notice me until I stood to the right of one of the chairs and cleared my throat.
“Excuse me, ladies, is this the Book Club?” Secretly, I debated on whether I should be excited that these ladies could be my new friends and horrified for the same exact reasons. I knew I was a conundrum.
The lady across from me, dressed in silver snakeskin heels with a matching silver top, eyed me. Picking up her glass from the oak coffee table in front of her, I watched her gulp down the amber liquid in it. Upon closer inspection, I knew it for what it was. A shot glass. I didn’t think that it was apple juice that she had just swallowed. Almost jumping, I instead caught myself and took only a small step back before stopping, when I heard the words that were uttered.
“And who the fuck wants to know?” Sitting her shot glass down, she eyed me like I was trouble with a capital T. “Now Betty, that’s not very nice, the little lady might not be that smart and got lost.” The lady beside her, who I assumed was Betty, patted her hand as if to calm her friend down and insult me at the same time. After patting her friend’s hand, she looked me over and said, “Well, are you not that smart or did you get lost? There’s a map, right over there, and if you can’t read” –she pointed over by the stairs and continued– “it says exit and you can go that way.”
Can you call an elderly person a bitch?
Astonished at the older women in front of me and how they were behaving, I cut my eyes at the two remaining ladies, hoping for a little help and hopefully some common sense. Both were staring at me. It seemed like they were also waiting for me to leave their quiet, or shall I say, very loud sanctuary. But I would not back down. Damn it, I have had a shitty three weeks and I was joining a book club. Straightening my back, I gritted my teeth against certain words trying to make their appearance. I could do this. I wasn’t going to let some Betty White wannabe bully me. “Now hold on, I’m here for the damn book club and if this is it … well, I’m staying. So, you all can just calmly fuck off.”
I nodded my head crossing my arms against my chest and tried to hold back my apology of using the word “fuck” in front of these elderly women. One normally did not cuss at a senior citizen. Even if said senior citizen deserved it at the time. I stood still trying to appear calm while I waited for the elderly women’s reaction. The said elderly women looked at each other in what could only be described as secret grandmother code that only someone over the age of sixty would seem to understand. Which I wasn’t. Finally, the one called Betty stood up and slowly made her way towards me. “You like Jim?”
I took in the four almost empty shot glasses on the table. “Beam?”
She rolled her eyes at that response and started tapping her foot. “Well who the shit else?”
Really? I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t an alcohol guru and mainly gulped down white wine, or my favorite Bailey’s but l knew I was done playing games. Arms dropped to my side I tried to give the sense of aloofness. Though I was not really sure if I succeeded, I played the only hand I had and replied, “It’s okay, though I prefer Jose.”
Without giving anything away, Betty turned back to the other ladies, then back to me. “Oh, I like you. I think you’ll do just fine. Yep, I think you’ll do nicely. Now go grab a red chair before I change my mind.”
Glancing around the gigantic room I saw one remaining red chair by itself in the corner of the room. I made my way to the lonely chair, and noticed the dust covering it from disuse. Great. Wrapping my arms around it I tried picking it up and failed miserably. Okay then. I squeezed my eyes shut against the screeching and moaning the chair made as I pulled it slowly across the floor. Secretly hoping for minimal scratches on the hardwood floor or at the very least they went unnoticed. Blowing out a br
eath of relief when I got done, I turned it around to sit between two of the women whose names I hadn’t learned yet.
I watched Betty before completely sitting because all the women seemed to take their cues from her.
Flapping her hands at me like she was trying to fly, Betty yelled, “Well sit down, we’re having an important conversation.”
My eyebrows raised on their own accord. “Yes, yes, I heard, breast or bosom. Very important.”
Betty narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t be a wise ass. Now before we get started,” pointing to the lady beside her, “this is Iris and the two beside you are sisters Gertrude and Prudence. Or Gertie and Prude.”
I nodded my head in greeting to all of them. “Hi, I’m Kelly Green, I just moved here about two months ago after getting a divorce. I’ll be the new teacher at the middle school here once school starts. And I also have a dog named Duchess and yeah that’s about it.”
“The bastard cheated, didn’t he?”
Almost jumping out of the chair, that I just sat in, I turn to my right where the question came from, the lady by my side. Who I thought was named Gertie. With dyed black hair, and a solid white streak on the side, she reminded me of Rogue from X-Men or Frankenstein’s Bride. It was a toss-up. Her dress which was a simplistic black that I thought was cute until I got to her matching shoes. On her very small feet sat four-inch leopard print stilettos. Not able to drag my eyes off her cute, but unconventional shoes, I was startled slightly, when I heard her voice, “They’re hot, right?”
Road to Them: The Road Series Book Two Page 1
