Flirting With Love Page 19

  “Hope,” I whisper. I look up and see Hudson staring back at me with pride and love.

  He nods and kisses me first, then our daughter. “Hope. Welcome to our family.”

  AS SOON AS I get comfortable again, there’s a knock on the door.

  With hands full of gifts and bouquets, Heath, Ace, and Homer—my father-in-law—enter, followed by my mom. She’s the first to run to me. Ace and Heath are next, and before I know it, I’m surrounded by family, all chattering and cooing. Hope gets passed from family member to family member. Homer surprises me the most though, with how easily he holds her. It was a long road for Homer and me. It took him over a decade before he accepted me into his family, but my stubbornness to not let him get under my skin eventually won him over. Now, our relationship couldn’t be better.

  “You know,” Homer says, looking at Hudson. “Every time we had one of you boys, your mom was insistent about having another. She really wanted a girl and was willing to go to any lengths to get one. I gotta say, I loved those days when she was insatiable.”

  Hudson groans.

  Heath murmurs, “I really could have lived without hearing about that.”

  “Welcome to real life, boys. Sex leads to babies.” Homer laughs as both men squirm. He makes another cooing sound at Hope, and then hands her back to me, kissing me on the forehead. My eyes widen in shock. “You did good, Blake. Clare would’ve been so proud of you.”

  At this rate, I’m going to start crying all over again. I smile up at him, glad that things have worked out so well, after all the fights between him and Hudson.

  “Where’s Harrington?” I ask, realizing he still hasn’t shown up. He was the most excited when we told everyone we were having a baby. So him not being here is . . . unnerving. I see Hudson and Heath exchange looks. Ace starts to murmur at Hope, like she’s avoiding the question.

  “Hudson,” I say, prodding him to tell me. He knows he shouldn’t—can’t—keep secrets from me. But just as he opens his mouth to answer:

  “I hear I have a niece to spoil rotten.”

  All of our heads turn toward the door. There, in a wrinkled t-shirt and faded jeans, with a beanie over his head, stands Harrington. A five o’clock shadow dusts his jaw. He comes over and leans down to kiss me on the cheek before hugging me. “Congratulations, sis.”

  “You okay, Harrington?” I ask.

  “Better than I’ve ever been.” Then he turns and stalks over to Ace. “Heath still whipped, little sis? At least tell me he’s being a whipping boy because of great sex,” he teases her.

  “Harrington!” I gasp.

  Ace blushes, Heath punches him in the arm, and Hudson simply laughs. My mom, well, she’s used to this. Homer stays still, his lips thin, unimpressed by his middle son.

  “Someday, there will be a girl strong enough to hang you by the balls, and I swear to god, Harry, that’ll be the day I celebrate with a bottle of whiskey,” Heath says.

  “A shot of whiskey,” Ace corrects him.

  Harrington snickers. “Like I said. Whipped.”

  Ace smiles at him, pushing up to a standing position. She wraps her free arm around him and says, “Stop trying to intimidate me, Harrington. You couldn’t do it for the last decade, I don’t think you can do it now. Just give it up already.”

  “Why, I missed you too, little sis,” he says, pushing away from the hug. “And this,” he says, taking Hope from her arms and cradling her to his chest like he’s a natural, “must be my princess.”

  Hope suddenly opens her eyes and stares at her uncle.

  “If any fuckers give you shit, come tell Uncky Harry. Okay? Because your dad, and your little shitty uncle, won’t do jack.”

  “Harrington!” Hudson scowls. “Babies. Language.”

  He chuckles and coos as he responds, “She can’t understand a fucking word that’s coming out of my mouth, so chill, bro.”

  I can’t help but smile. I know our daughter will grow up loved and cared for, and safer than any other baby in this world. I know Hope and Vicki would be happy for her. Especially Vicki. Once her stepfather and Trey were put away, Vicki was placed in foster care until she graduated. From there, she went on to put herself through college and now spends her days as a social worker, working with teenagers and helping them make the right choices.

  “We need to talk,” Heath says to Harrington, bringing me back to present.

  He shoulders past his brother and leaves the room. Harrington gives Hope to my mom before following Heath outside.

  Hudson kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before he can pull away, I grab his wrist. “Take it easy with him. Okay?”

  He nods.

  “You know there’s no chance for Hope to be a normal girl, right?” Ace asks as the eldest Lovelly brother exits the room.

  I laugh. “I figured.”

  “I mean, Harrington just gave your daughter the okay to call him Harry.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  Five minutes later, Heath and Hudson come back into the room, their faces dark and grim. I look behind them. “Where’s Harrington?”

  They scowl deeper in response. Heath goes and sits next to Ace; she takes his shaking hand into hers. Hudson scoops Hope into his arms.

  “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” I don’t want to yell, but the Lovelly boys are starting to drive me up the wall. I can tell Ace is at that point too, but she stays calm. I don’t know how that girl keeps up with all the craziness that is this family.

  “Harrington left,” Heath says, grinding his teeth.

  “What?” I gasp. “What do you mean he left?”

  Hudson replies. “He dropped out of Harvard, and he’s leaving us. He said that he came back to say goodbye, and that he’ll call when he’s ready.”

  From the look on Ace’s face, I can tell she wasn’t expecting this either. Hell, I’ve known Harrington since he was ten years old, and I never could have expected this.

  “I’m sure he has a good reason,” I try to reason.

  When neither of them respond, I reach for my phone. Maybe if I talk to him, he’ll come back.

  “Don’t bother, Blake.” This is from Heath.

  “How can you guys just let your brother go? Let him fend for himself? This isn’t like him. Harrington would never leave you, us, his family, behind.”

  “You’re right, Blake,” Heath says. “But he said something about being the bad apple in the family, and how he needed to stay away to keep us safe from him.”

  I look at my husband, wanting him to somehow fix this. A deep furrow forms between his eyebrows. I’ve never seen him, or Heath, like this. Hudson looks like he wants to scream and hide in the corner all at the same time. His shoulders are bunched up with tension, and his lips turn down in the corners.

  When Hudson speaks, the air inside the room stills: “I think Harrington’s in trouble, and he’s trying to keep us safe. I think his antics have finally caught up to him.”

  Oh, Harrington. What have you gotten yourself into?

  Where there’s hope, there’s a new beginning…

  FOREVER KINDA LOVE

  book 1

  Life’s. Little. Surprises.

  The last thing seven-year-old Carrigan "Ace" Casper foresaw was an eight-year-old Heath Lovelly walking into her life the day her mother died. From that moment on, Heath sticks by her side, slowly becoming her strength, her confidant, and her entire world. What she doesn’t know is, she's his saving grace, too.

  Ten years later, Ace is handed another crippling challenge that threatens everything in her almost perfect life. Only, this time, she doesn't turn to Heath, hiding the truth instead. But Heath knows Ace too well and won't back down easily. He's ready to do whatever it takes and will stay by her side until she accepts that their love is the kinda love worth fighting for.

  Will he be her forever triumph or her unexpected downfall?

  Two lives.

  One story.

  And a
n unexpected journey to falling in love.

  PURCHASE LINKS:

  AMAZON KOBO GOOGLE PLAY B&N IBOOKS

  Family—Raj, Jay, Siri, and Koda. My family is the most important thing in my life. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they are the first people who come to mind for acknowledgements. Without their support and encouragement and okay, patience, I would not be writing.

  This book turned from a novella—32k words—to a full-blown novel of 60k+ words. And that really wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for my editor—a person I can proudly call my friend. Kisa Whipkey! This woman is a saint for keeping up with my multiple-personality Class A act of requests. LOVE YOU!

  To my assistant, sounding board, first reader of this draft, and friend, Jessica Baker. I’m so so so thankful for our late night chats, and your honest opinion on all things books. I’m incredibly blessed to have YOU in my life.

  To my Photographer & cover designer, Lindee Robinson. Thank you for being patient and letting me use your amazing talent to not only find the perfect Hudson and Blake, but to design such a stunning cover!

  A special thank you to my beta readers—Sara Ebert, Derna Fearon, Malia Lilinoe, Kristen Piersa and Shelby Von Wahl. Your feedback on over usage of words and requests for more of Blake’s POV helped me improve this story! Thank you for helping me with your unbiased opinions!

  Readers, Bloggers, and Writing community. I don’t know how you do guys do this, day to day, but it’s your enthusiasm, support, and hunger to read more that fuels my creative juices. You’re my inspiration and the reason I stay awake until 3 a.m. plotting and writing stories that will hopefully move you to laughter and tears! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

  And last, but not least, THANK YOU to the guy upstairs, for giving me the ability to write and a family that understands my crazy sleep habits. Without your blessing, this isn’t possible.

  Dear Readers,

  I’ve been fortunate most of my life. Plenty of times, people have asked me how I keep my head high and stay positive. Because I’m one of those sickeningly positive people that annoys everyone around them.

  But the truth of the matter is, I’ve had my share of ups and downs too. They might not be significant compared to those experienced by others, but to me, they were huge. And the only reason I kept afloat is because I reminded myself on a daily basis of all the good in my life—the A I finally got on an exam, the people I was blessed to have, the sun shining brightly . . .

  I knew that no matter what, it could always get better. And if it got worse instead, well, I always had tomorrow, and the day after to look forward to. “Dust it off and have another go.” That’s been my motto for a long time.

  What I’m trying to say is, I know for some of you, it must be hard to think that your life can get better. I know it seems that, with everything that you’ve been through, no one can or will understand your situation. And I want you to know that there are people out there who care—family, friends, and even strangers who will root for your success. All you have to do is reach out and ask for help.

  Please, please, don’t ever give up. Don’t ever blame yourself for the crappy cards you were handed. And please don’t do anything your heart and head don’t agree on. Talk to someone, seek help.

  And always remember, it never hurts to have a little hope for a better you and a brighter future.

  Love,

  Clara Stone

  Clara Stone lives in the beautiful city of Boise, ID. Unlike what most believe about Idaho, it’s more than a sack full of potatoes. When she’s not writing, you’ll catch Clara reading YA and NA books, mostly romance, and enjoying time with her family. She is a proud CW TV addict.

  Connect with Clara Stone

  Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/YpiMv

  www.priyakanaparti.com

  www.facebook.com/authorclarastone

  www.twitter.com/pkanaparti

  http://www.Microsoft Word/Clara-Stone/e/B00N53DX8U

  http://www.tsu.co/AuthorClaraStone

  www.goodreads.com/author/show/7857676.Clara_Stone

  www.pinterest.com/pkanaparti

  KEEP READING FOR A LOOK AT PUCKED

  BY RACHEL WALTER

  PURCHASE LINKS:

  AMAZON

  SMASHWORDS

  KOBO

  BARNES & NOBLE

  I

  AUDREY

  The last five minutes of study hall are always the slowest, but today, the hands on Mr. Theiss’s old-fashioned clock seem to stand still. I stare out the window, waiting, wishing I were free from this place and already home.

  The sun peeks out from behind the gray clouds that have cast our little town in the shadows for days.

  Life is like the weather. Rain, like our emotions, builds up along the streets of our hearts, softening the earth of our souls, creating mud. Though messy, mud is the glue of our decisions. It cements our personal changes. It’s not permanent, because when it rains again, you’ll need to restructure, rebuild, change, and just like our decisions in life, nothing lasts forever.

  But in the mud, there’s freedom, relief, hope, and even a sense of peace - a mask.

  Hiding behind masks is human nature. Even I hide behind a mask to keep others out, to shield my feelings and thoughts.

  When it rains, for me, it’s a time to reflect, and when the sun shines, drying the residue and warming my soul, I know I’ll begin to heal. Temporary or not, it’s still a relief to know that even a small solution is on the way.

  The bell shrills, startling me from my thoughts. I burst from my seat and work my way to the door.

  It’s been raining for two days straight on this side of the Susquehanna River. School just ended, and the brightness of the sun feels like a long lost friend has finally come home, making an unusually warm autumn day.

  “Aud!” My friend Alice’s voice carries over the chatter of the student body. I wave my hand in the direction of her voice as I weave between the other students in my school, ignoring her as she hollers for me again. I’ll call her later. I have to get home and I’m still mad at her for making me waste my paycheck on these uncomfortable jeans I’m wearing. I should’ve stuck with my tried and true Levi’s and not listened to her fawning over the latest “in” style fashion guide.

  A backpack slams into my side as I turn the last corner before the glass doors of freedom. “Omph,” I gasp.

  “Sorry, Audrey,” Collin mutters, not slowing his jog to the band room.

  Rolling my eyes, I run through the doors and gently rub my side as I cross the parking lot.

  Rain makes mud. And mud is enjoyable for more than just a metaphor.

  I wiggle my keys out of the small pocket of these jeans that feel plastered on. Alice was so wrong about the comfort level of skinny jeans. My keys jingle and clank together, finally free from the vice-gripped pocket. I unlock my door, tossing my backpack into the passenger seat at the same time as I drop onto the driver’s seat.

  I allow myself to catch my breath before cranking the engine and maneuvering out of the student lot. This place is insane this time of day, overflowing with crazed students rushing to their cars like ravenous wolves chasing their dinner. One by one, we file down the one-way lane that leads to the road at a snail’s pace.

  Messing with the radio, I find a station with decent music while I wait.

  Two songs later, it’s my turn, and I don’t take my time leaving Dalesburg High campus. My tires screech as I stomp on the gas pedal. Rain is a Good Thing by Luke “Nice Butt” Bryan comes on the radio. I turn the volume up and shout the lyrics as I drive home like a NASCAR driver.

  The tires spray gravel on the undercarriage and behind me as I turn onto my street. Slowing down so my parents don’t yell at me again, I carefully park in my spot, grab my stuff, and launch out of my car. My chucks slide in the grass as I run to the porch and I smile to myself.

  Everything’s perfect.

  I fling the front door open. “Mom! Dad!” I yell, dumping my book bag
and car keys on the couch on my way to my bedroom. “I’m headin’ out!” I shut my door to change. Mom would tear me a new one if I “mud up” any more school clothes. I wiggle and kick out of those stupid jeans.

  “Game doesn’t start for another three hours Audrey, where you going?” My dad hollers.

  Pulling my stained jeans up and over my hips, I shimmy to line the seams perfectly before buttoning them. “It rained!” I shout my answer.

  Dad knows exactly what I’m up to. He’s the one who has told me since I was little; Audrey, there’s peace in the mud. It centers your soul, and anything you can do to get closer to it brings you closer to your true self. And it’s fun to throw at your brothers. So I’m not sure why he’s asking now.

  “Yes, Paul. It rained! You’re the one who shared your love of mud with her. How could you forget?” my mom answers for me, dryly.

  Giggling at her sarcasm, I pull a long sleeved long john shirt over my head, followed by Luca’s, my oldest brother, stained Scooby shirt. I pretty much swim in it, but it’s the shirt he always wore when he went muddin’, before he left for college in New York City anyway. He claimed Scooby kept him from bogging out. I know it’s because he didn’t full throttle like Greg, our other brother. It doesn’t stop me from wearing it, and rub Greg’s face in the fact that I’m wearing Luca’s lucky shirt.

  “Denise, she’s my only girl. She could’ve been going shopping!”

  Opening my door and skipping down the hall to the kitchen where my parents are, I laugh. “Give me forty bucks, and I can improve my wardrobe, Daddy!”

  He tilts his head toward me and smirks as I lean against the counter. “Detail my truck and you’ve got a deal.”

  I brush my fingers through my long, light brown hair, separating the strands into three locks to braid as I think over his offer. Maybe cleaning dad’s truck would be worth it, I could go for a few new pairs of jeans from the Goodwill.