


“I’m only five minutes late, jackass.” He throws a towel at me as I head behind the desk and turn on the computer. Matt and I opened this gym five years ago. We both graduated with majors in business and knew we wouldn’t ever be a part of the corporate world. So, we took what we learned and applied it to something we both loved: fitness. Was it an overnight success? Hell, no. It took at least three years to get out of the red. But last year was our best year yet, with this year rivaling even those numbers.
“You know if you didn’t own this place, I could fire you, right?” I give him the finger as I check my email, quickly making sure there are no cancelations for today’s schedule.
Just as I’m about to log off, a new email pops up from one of my regulars. I open it and read:
Owen, sorry to do this to you last minute, but I have to cancel my session for this morning. Tommy was throwing up all night, and his fever has yet to go down, so I’m taking him to see the doctor. Sorry again. I’ll still pay for the session, and I’ll see you next week. –Amber
“Well, there goes my morning plans,” I mutter to myself just as Matt comes over and leans against the desk.
“Amber cancel?” I nod, not surprised that Matt memorized my schedule. It’s why I had no issues with going into business with him. He’s organized, loyal, and has a memory that could rival Sheldon Cooper’s. “You really gonna make her pay for the session?” he asks, giving me a look I know well.
“Of course, not. I’m not that big of an ass. Plus, her kid is sick. Ever since Ken left her, she’s had a lot on her plate.” When Amber started training with me, I knew she was motivated by her husband’s infidelity, something she was very vocal about. I believe she said she wanted him to wish he never stuck his dick in another woman. I told her I would be happy to get her that revenge, even though she already looked amazing for a forty-year-old single mom.
“So, what are you gonna do now?” Matt asks, taking one of the mints from the bowl to my right and popping it into his mouth.
“I don’t know. Might work out for a bit.” He nods just as my phone goes off, A second later, it goes off again, then again. I sigh, knowing exactly who’s blowing up my cell.
“You haven’t cut her loose yet?” Matt asks with a knowing smirk that makes me feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. “Calm down, man. If it was me, I would probably keep her around, too. She must be one hell of a lay.”
“Shut the fuck up and mind your own business,” I grunt as he shrugs and goes back to cleaning the equipment. I pick up my mobile and see one missed call and four unread texts.
Bailey: Morning, handsome, what are you up to today?
Bailey: Why aren’t you answering my texts?
Bailey: Hello???
Bailey: Call me NOW.
I sigh, pulling up her contact and pressing the phone to my ear. She picks up after the first ring.
“Where have you been?” she accuses as I tilt my head towards the ceiling, praying I can get through this conversation without blowing my top.
“Bails, you know I open the gym every day. I was busy talking to Matt about my schedule.” She sighs, groaning into the phone, and for the millionth time this week, I wonder why I’m with her. In the beginning, it was amazing—she was hot, funny, and we had a great time together. Then, over time, she wanted more. More of my time, more of my attention, and more of my business. Bailey is an Instagram influencer and very proud of it. She should be, she’s worked really hard to get where she is today, but it’s become all-consuming. And she’s using my brand, something that I built from the ground up, to gain more and more of a following for herself. And it’s grating on my nerves.
It’s become clearer as time goes on that she’s with me for the clout and not for me, and I know I need to end it. For both of our sanities.
“You never have time for me anymore,” she whines as I take a deep breath, needing strength to get through this conversation. There’s a huge crash from the store next door, and I jump up from my seat.
“What was that?” Bailey asks as I motion to Matt that I’m going over to take a look. He nods as I head to the front door.
“Bails, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t wait for her reply as I jerk open the front door and jog next door. The sign above the door says Head Over Heels, and the door and windows are covered in brown paper, letting me know that it’s under construction. I try the front door, and when it swings open, I walk inside.
“Hello? Is everyone okay?” I ask, hearing my voice echo through the small space. I don’t see anyone around, but I do see a very large metal rack lying toppled on the floor and dust everywhere. The shop itself is pretty small, but from the looks of it, it’s cute. The walls are plain white with paint chips taped to every available surface. The colors range from grey to bright pink and everything in between. I have no idea what this space will become, but right now, it’s a mess.
“Hello! I just wanted to make sure no one’s hurt after that thing fell,” I call again, making my way farther into the space, stepping over the broken shelf and heading towards the back of the store.
“Sorry, yes, everything’s fine. The stupid thing doesn’t want to stay attached to the wall,” a woman says from behind the counter. Her long, blond hair and curvy figure send a jolt through my body, but the minute she turns around, my whole world stops moving. “Morgan?” I croak as I open my mouth to say something, anything…but nothing comes out. Morgan Lawson, the girl I spent most of my adolescence obsessing over is standing right in front of me. Given the color draining from her face, I would say she remembers exactly who I am, too. And from the fire I see in her eyes, she recalls precisely how much I ruined everything.
In desperation, he turns to the internet to hire a new employee, thinking it will make his life easier.
What he expects is a fellow named Charly.
What he gets is a quirky, sassy, red-head name Charlynn who runs circles around him.
And she’s all woman.
He can’t stand her.
He can’t keep his hands off her either.
I’m a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, “No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book.” I didn’t think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn’t already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven’t been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Designs
Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography
Model: Roddy Hanson
Release Date: July 9, 2020
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My eyes find the printout of Carrick ‘The Beast of Boston’ Ferguson’s picture sitting in the passenger seat. It’s a newspaper article from a few years ago before he retired from professional boxing.
He’s in his iconic deep green, satin boxing shorts and has the coldest, most aloof stare. A shiver wracks my bones at the sight of those strange, dark eyes. My attention goes to his body. He’s big and has various tattoos here and there. The one inked in the center of his chest catches my attention and I wrinkle my brows trying to figure this one out. It’s odd to see a large tattoo across his chest of a fully bloomed red rose. The blood red petals are splayed wide showcasing the intricacies of the velvety blossom. The stem is thick and thorny with the little beasties that resemble shark teeth more than anything else. It’s a weird tattoo for a menacing man like him to sport. An unladylike snort slips out as I realize the paradox in front of me.
Mom used to have a rose bush that really was more like a tree. The damned thing was gargantuan. It flooded with vivid, deep, red blooms every spring and she personified the thing by naming it Beast. She originally gave it that name as homage to Lan’s favorite Disney movie. Lan used to beg Mom for a rose from Beast so she could put it under Mom’s upturned tea pitcher, pretending she was Belle in Beast’s castle attempting to see the man beneath the monster. Mom always carefully chose a long stem with a perfect bloom at its end and gave Lan the rose but forbade her from trying to touch it herself.
Thorns and all.
We used to walk out to the small garden behind our house with mom and watch her prune Beast while she’d tell us all about the looming presence. She used to say the same thing every year. She’d gather us close at her side and kneel down in front of Beast and get animated as she said, “This is Beast. Beast is the size of a Volkswagen and has an impossible amount of buds, and blooms a thousand or more. Beast also has thorns. Big ones. But if you can sneak close enough to catch a whiff, and avoid the gnarly thorns, you’ll be ruined for all the other roses for the rest of your life. The sweetest scent amongst the thorns.”
How funny that this monster—this Beast of Boston—is also gargantuan and happens to sport one lifelike red rose of his own. He too has thorns, just not the type you can see. His are hidden, and they’re that much more dangerous for it.
He’s a pretty monster.
That’s not quite accurate though. He’s not pretty. He’s beautiful. Well, if you can look past his thorns, that is. There isn’t a female on the planet that would deny him. I’m no fool. May as well call a spade a spade. The Beast of Boston is a hell of a man to look at. Being in the heavy weight division, he’s a mammoth of a man. The specs for his last prizefight—a fight he won, pocketing a substantial purse—says he weighed in at 218 pounds and towered at 6 feet 4 inches. He’s a solid foot taller than me and almost one hundred pounds heavier. The photo shows him at the weigh-in before the fight. Despite being a fighter, his face is enchanting, with sharp features and striking eyes. It’s only too bad that he’s rumored to be a fucking murderer and happens to be one of the leaders of the criminals who I suspect took my sister.