Sweet Town Love

by Maggie Ryan

  "It wasn't me and I haven't heard of anyone getting into trouble. Well, except for you, of course," Bridget clarified with a laugh. "Listen, I was just calling to make sure your plans for Max's birthday came through. I didn't want to slip up and say something about it if you hadn't gotten things worked out."

  A smile lit Cara's face as she thought of her planned surprise. "Yes, I finalized them today. I've got the card in my purse. I was planning on giving it to him tonight but maybe if I just leave it out and he sees it before he—"

  "Not a good idea, honey," Bridget interrupted. "You know how our men feel if they think we are attempting to manipulate them, especially if it comes to punishment."

  "Yeah, you're right," Cara said, her smile disappearing. "Speaking of which, I've gotta go. If I'm not in the… um, ready when Max gets here, my butt will be sorer for sure."

  "Okay, I understand. Oh, are you still coming to class?"

  On Thin Ice by Stevie MacFarlane

  Charlene Elliott, “Charlie” is the junior reporter of a small town newspaper. As such she gets stuck with all the jobs no one else wants. Frustrated beyond belief when she’s railroaded into reviewing a school play she has no desire to see, and on a Friday night no less, she annoys the hell out a man sitting next to her and everyone in the general area.

  The handsome doctor came from out of town to see his niece, Emma, in the lead role. Mark can’t believe the attractive woman beside him has such a poor attitude. After missing a good deal of the play, he decides to teach the young woman a lesson in one of the empty classrooms during intermission.

  Mortified, Charlie leaves the school and meets up with some friends for a drink. She does not watch the rest of the play. However, she writes a glowing review extolling the acting skills of the young Emma, never realizing the ‘star’ went home sick during the first act or that the high-handed man with the paint stick is none other than her boss’s brother, a man she’s supposed to work with at the upcoming Winter Festival. Charlie soon finds herself on thin ice, professionally and personally when she can’t deny her attraction to the man who has no problem pulling her over his knees. Sparks and spanks fly as romance blooms.

  Chapter One

  Charlie was so angry her ears were hot. It was Friday night, which everyone with half a brain knew was singles night. The one night of the week she could hit the clubs with her friends and have fun without feeling like a third wheel. Her friends would be getting ready to strut their stuff and where was she? Stomping down the aisle of the Cassville Middle School auditorium to sit through the sixth grade production of Annie!

  Hell yeah, the sun would come out tomorrow, but she would wake up in bed alone having missed out on a possibly life-changing hook-up. Not that she’d found any recently, but hey, there was always a chance, right? This very night could be “the night” and she was missing it all because of her civic-minded boss and his daughter, Emma.

  Emma was a cute kid, but this sure as hell wasn’t Broadway. Why her boss thought his small town newspaper needed to review every school function, she’d never know and how she’d gotten roped into it was still a mystery. As the junior reporter she was the one who got stuck with all the crap jobs, and apparently that wasn’t going to change in the near future.

  Only a few weeks ago she’d been forced to walk through yards of muck at the county fair, been splattered with mud from the demolition derby, and nearly puked watching the pie eating contest. What a disgusting spectacle that was! The photographer who usually tagged along with her got out of that one quickly. He snapped a couple of shots and split while she had to wait to interview a guy who had chocolate pudding dripping out of his nose. She shivered at the memory as she sank into an aisle seat and slumped back with a groan.

  The next disaster-in-waiting was the Winter Festival. For that she’d be required to dress as a Polar Bear in a little pink skirt and have her picture taken with all the little kiddies, on skates no less. Daniel McClellan, her boss, thought it would be good publicity for the paper and he was big on community events. His brother, the doctor, like she hadn’t heard that a million times, would be there, handing out poison control information printed out on magnetic bears.

  Jeez, you’d think he was a famous brain surgeon, instead of a country doctor running a one-man practice in the neighboring town. Although she’d never met him, she pictured a slightly overweight do-gooder with glasses. It just wasn’t fair! Daniel should be here tonight, after all, it was his daughter, but his wife, due to have their third child at any moment, was on bed rest.

  Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder she reached into her bag for her cellphone and popped in her earbuds. It was going to be a long night. Closing her eyes, she let her mix take over as she tried to imagine herself on a deserted beach, the warm breeze caressing her body and the sound of the waves…

  “Excuse me, miss, would you mind moving over a seat?”

  Charlie jumped when a hand touched her shoulder and she yanked out her earbuds.

  “What?” she demanded, looking up at the tall man waiting in the aisle.

  “I asked if you’d mind moving over a seat,” he drawled, indicating the empty seat beside her.

  “Why?”

  “My niece is performing tonight and with my height these seats are pretty uncomfortable in general. At least on the aisle I can stretch my legs out now and then,” he explained.

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” she replied, indicating her own long legs. “That’s why I came early,” she lied, turning back to her phone as a text came through.

  “I can see you’re quite tall,” the man persisted, “especially with those shoes, but I believe I have you by several inches.”

  “I didn’t know this was a contest,” Charlie snapped getting to her feet feeling sure she was nearly as tall as he. She wasn’t. Not only did he top her by at least six inches, he was much broader. Clearly he needed the end seat more than she did, and what did it matter anyway? She was stuck here for the next two hours, at least. If she wasn’t in such a bad mood, she might find him somewhat attractive. His voice was deep and smooth with a slight country twang she normally found appealing and he did ask nicely.

  “Oh all right,” she sighed. Snatching up her bag, she plopped into the next seat.

  “Thank you,” Mark replied, turning his head to hide his grin. Boy, talk about a bad attitude. She was gorgeous. Her long wavy blonde hair and those endless legs were spectacular. In her short skirt he couldn’t help but notice her sweet little butt when she bent over for her purse, but on a scale of one to ten her personality was a negative two. No wonder she was at a kid’s play instead of out on a date.

  Glancing at her left hand as her fingers flew over her tiny keyboard he saw there was no ring. Not surprising. Her long manicured nails made clicking sounds that were slightly aggravating. He ignored it; surely she would stop once the play started. He was wrong.

  From the time the curtain went up she was like a crazed teenager with a new toy. With the house lights down, each text made her cell bright and the little tinkling sound over and over set his teeth on edge. Completely oblivious to the disapproving glances and glares being directed at her, she giggled, snorted and even laughed out loud in response to one text. Finally, Mark had enough.

  “Do you have someone in the play?” he whispered, frustrated beyond belief.

  “No. Why?” she asked without bothering to look at him.

  “I was just wondering why you’re here annoying the rest of us?” he asked, not bothering to keep his voice soft.

  Several other patrons murmured their agreement, with a loud “Amen” coming from behind her.

  “It’s open to the public,” she hissed. “I’ve just as much right to be here as anyone else.”

  “You haven’t taken your eyes off that phone since I sat down and certainly not to watch the play. You’re being rude and disrespectful to the kids who worked so hard to put this on,” he insisted, leaning closer to her.

  “They can�
��t even see me with the lights down,” she sassed back.

  “Well, I can see you and so can other people. I want you to put that phone away, no better yet shut the damn thing off. I don’t want to hear every missed call and text.”

  “No,” she replied, whispering “asshole,” under her breath.

  Mark heard her and so did a few others by the gasps. Slipping his arm along the back of her seat he dropped it around her shoulder and pulled her close. His mouth nearly nuzzled her neck as he whispered in her ear.

  “What’s your name?” he breathed.

  “Charlene,” she replied with a gulp.

  “That’s a very pretty name, and I don’t have to tell you how lovely you are.”

  Charlie almost relaxed against him. The timber of his deep voice, the warmth of his breath, sent a thrill down her spine and she shivered. The scent of his cologne was crippling. Tilting her head to look at him, she felt his slight stubble scrape against her soft cheek and sighed. Wouldn’t it be funny if she met Mr. Right at this silly play, she thought. His next words burst her bubble.

  “However, despite all your physical attributes,” he drawled in her ear, “your manners are deplorable and unless you put that phone away right now, come intermission I will take you out to my truck, or find a quiet little corner in this great big school and spank you to tears. Do I make myself clear, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing his lips against her cheek.

  “You’re not serious,” she said with a shudder, but somehow she knew he was.

  “As a heart attack,” he replied, chucking her under the chin to close her mouth. “And it won’t be a few swats over your little skirt, it will be skirt up, panties down,” he promised.

  There was a challenging gleam in his dark eyes Charlie couldn’t fail to miss it. She tried once again to break his hold without causing a scene and failed as he pulled her even closer.

  “Just one more text to let my friends know I’m shutting down,” she pleaded, her blue eyes wide.

  “No.”

  “I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said quickly.

  “No,” he replied, crossing his long legs and completely blocking her exit.

  Charlie knew the only way she was getting out of this row was to hike her skirt to her crotch and climb over him, and that was if he decided to let her.

  “Who are you anyway?” she demanded sarcastically. “The etiquette police?”

  “My name is Mark and I’ve traveled quite a distance to see my niece perform. You’ve already spoiled my enjoyment for the first two acts so we may as well step outside now,” he sighed heavily, starting to rise, his hand moving to her wrist.

  “No, wait, I’ll shut it off,” she pleaded.

  Mark released her and watched as she sent one last mass text to whoever she was talking to before stuffing her phone in her purse. She placed it on the floor between them and moved as far away from him as possible. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him.

  “That was your second mistake,” he said quietly as she sent out the text. Three minutes later he clearly felt and heard the cell phone vibrating. “And that was your third.”

  Charlie bent over, shut the phone completely off with a huff and waited nervously for intermission.

  Finding Syndey by Adrienne Blake

  Chandler returns to his small-town home where he hopes to find Sydney, his darling baby from his college years. But three years is a long time to stay away, and a lot of water has gushed under the bridge.

  Finding her again is proving a lot trickier than he imagined, but while he hunts for the love of his life, he’s reminded of all the things that tore them apart in the first place.

  Chapter One

  Hearts and Gyros

  Chandler dropped his brown leather bag at the ATM and punched in his PIN number. 0822. Her number. Well, her birthday anyway. Funny, he had first used it the year he met Sydney and in the last ten years had not seen fit to change it. He took the cash, slipped his card back in his wallet, and collecting his bag, sauntered over to the rental place. First things first—he had been traveling for two whole days now and he was damned hungry. The diner on Main Street had been pretty awesome in its day. He hoped it was still there, still serving the same Greek gyro and cheesy fries. He hoped a lot of things were just as they were back then. So many things had changed already.

  He picked up the rental Beemer and stashed his gear in the trunk before setting off along the familiar road. Past the house his grandmother lived in. Past the drug store where he'd worked his first job. He wondered if Old Bones still worked there? It was the nickname they all used for his first boss. Hell, for all Chandler knew, he could be dead by now. He drove past the hardware store, the florist, and his dad's machine shop. He had mixed feelings regarding that. Even after all this time, he could still smell the machine oil on his late father's hands. He breathed in deeply as if he could still smell the old man on his skin. At times, his dad at been such a gentle man. Yet his preferred method of discipline was the belt. Even now, Chandler could still recall the sting of the lashes as his father had thrashed his backside raw. But he hadn't come back to relive that part of his past. He had come back for her.

  And there it was, the silver diner, set a little back from the road. He parked the car in the rear and set the alarm. The high pitched beeps sounded out of place in this sleepy little backwater town. The car wasn't the only thing out of place. As he climbed the ramp to the diner entrance, he saw himself reflected in the windows. Westwood suit. Expensive haircut. Pricey-de-cologne. His shoes cost more than most people in this town made in a month. Things had certainly changed but he hoped the townspeople wouldn't resent him for it. So much had changed for him, and yet he'd never become ashamed of his roots. In fact, he was proud of them.

  Nothing about the diner had changed. He suspected if he went back fifty years in time it would look exactly the same as it did now, though maybe with slightly fresher paint. The only thing special about it now were the multitude of tacky pink love hearts suspended from the ceiling. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day. He bit his lip. He had returned for the sake of the day after all.

  He recognized the waitress as she sauntered over to the table. It was old Mrs. Pike, his former eleventh grade teacher. She was in her forties now; and her once sharp academic eyes had narrowed and dimmed—he'd heard about the premature stroke—someone had told him about it in a letter. Fortunately, her face showed no sign of it, but there was a tremor in her hands now. How well he remembered them.

  She whipped out her order form.

  "What can I get you to drink, dearie?" Her voice was scratchy and low from smoking one pack too many a day.

  "A coffee will be fine. Do you still do that amazing gyro and cheesy fries combo?"

  He stared straight at her but there was no glimpse of recognition in her tired eyes. Instead, she looked right through him; not even trying to put his face to her past. This town did that to some people. Others thrived in it. He hoped Sydney would be one of the latter.

  "Sure. That all you want?"

  "Please."

  In the booth in front of him were a young couple, as young as he'd been when he'd first met Sydney.

  "If I were on that dating show, would you pick me?"

  "Course I would, babe."

  "Fibber. You'd go for someone with bigger boobs."

  "Maybe at first. But I'd come back to you in the end."

  "Cheeky."

  "You love it."

  They were laughing and joking about some reality show they'd watched the night before on Netflix or cable or something. He rarely watched TV himself and they were discussing the very kind of show he took pains to avoid. He closed his eyes. Ten years before, he and Sydney had sat in that exact same booth, arguing over something just as banal. It wasn't the show that mattered, it was just the act of sharing something—an intimacy—a connection. And then they would go back to his place and make love like rabbits. Always his place—never hers. Eighteen years old and her
parents barely let him in the front door, let alone allow him to go upstairs. He was never good enough for their darling baby.

  A few minutes later Mrs. Pike deposited his order in front of him then sauntered off to serve the couple at the other table. Hungry, he picked up the gyro and tucked right in. Odd. It was good, but nowhere near as good as he remembered it. The cheesy fries were better. After chomping on a few, he pulled a napkin out of the cheap brown dispenser and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. The couple in front were kissing, but it was the vulgar, animal kind of kissing that reminded Chandler of the rhythmic spin-cycle of a cheap washing machine. Mrs. Pike watched them, order book in hand, with a resigned but bored expression on her face. He knew how she felt. Her current job sucked enough without being subjected to this kind of nonsense.

  "Ahem."

  The enchantment was snapped; the couple separated and continued with their order.

  It had been a little like that with Sydney. Her mouth was a honeyed oasis in the desert; he couldn't help but be drawn to it. When he kissed her, he would fall into delirium, one he hoped never to wake from. Perhaps looking from the outside in, they too had been just as ridiculous as the couple in the booth. But it never had felt absurd to him. All he remembered was how good she made him feel.

  Outside it was spitting. Oh well, it had threatened to rain all day. Sydney hated the rain. Not for its own sake—but she had a morbid fear of thunderstorms. He could still smell the apple shampoo in her hair as trembling, she'd clung to him during that first storm, her eyes wide with fear before she turned to bury her head into his chest.

  He finished his meal and Mrs. Pike sauntered over. "Are you finished with that?"

  "Sure. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know if the Miles family is still in town?"

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him properly for the first time. "Who wants to know? Are you the police? You don't look like police."

  He snorted. "No, I'm not the police. I'm an old friend."