FOUR WILDE BROTHERS…ONE WILDE COUNTRY BAND
WILDE RIDERS is the first novel in a spicy new contemporary romance series about four sexy brothers, their small-town bar and their local country band. WILDE RIDERS can be read as a STAND ALONE NOVEL or as part of the SERIES.
Cooper Wilde spent his entire adolescence counting the days until he could escape rural northwest New Jersey. Now at 26, he can’t believe he’s coming back. But his late father’s bar, Haymakers, is in financial trouble and his older brother, Jake, has asked for Cooper’s help.
Riley Smith, 25, is fresh out of her Ivy League MBA program and wants to make an impression on her employer, H & C Bank. Her first solo assignment is a fraud investigation on a business loan they made to Haymakers.
Even though Old Town is less than 90 minutes from New York City, Riley feels like she’s stepped into another world in this remote, one-bar town. Riley can’t wait to do her business and get back to the city as quickly as her sports car will take her…until she meets Cooper Wilde. He’s not like the other guys in this rural town and Riley feels inexplicably attracted to him.
The drive into New Jersey is exhausting. My only saving grace is that most of the traffic is going into the city instead of out of the city like I am. You’ve got to love those bridge and tunnel guys. I wouldn’t date one but I have a little bit of respect for them. The commute into Manhattan turns a nine hour work day into an eleven hour one, if you’re lucky. I can feel my stomach start to knot as I get further away from the city and further away from civilization. Pretty soon I’ll be in the sticks surrounded by woods and farmland. I can almost smell the manure that will no doubt take days to completely rid from my nasal passages. I pray that I don’t run into any animals, especially cows, which are huge, smelly and completely freak me out. The only live animals I ever care to see have to fit comfortably in a handbag, like a Chihuahua or Teacup Poodle, for example.
I have an appointment with a man named Jake Wilde. He asked me to come early, before the place opens at noon, so he could give me his full attention. I try to imagine what someone named Jake Wilde would look like and all I can come up with is an old gunslinger like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven.
As I pull into Old Town the place looks exactly like I thought it would. The buildings in the town square are old and I image the place hasn’t changed much in the last hundred years or so.
Haymakers is just past the town square, down the hill from the deli, next to the gas station. Those were the exact directions I was given, in those words. I take that to mean the town only has one gas station and one deli.
When I pull into the parking lot, there’s only one other vehicle sitting there. It’s an old beat-up Dodge Ram. Nothing like fitting the country bumpkin stereotype like a glove. I have a brief moment of panic and wonder if it’s safe to park my BMW in the dirt lot. Then I remind myself where I am. Who is going to mess with it in the middle of the day? A stray deer from the woods out back? The only thing I probably have to worry about is it getting dusty.
I take in a deep breath. I have to be thankful there’s no manure smell yet. The quicker you do this, I remind myself, the quicker you can get back to the lovely asphalt jungle you call home.
I’m hit with a gust of wind as soon as I get out of my car. How is it possible that Old Town is even windier than lower Manhattan? I didn’t think I’d ever find a place windier than Wall Street. Even the Windy City didn’t seem this windy when I had business in Chicago.
When I enter the bar, I try to smooth down my thick hair, which I know is probably a complete mess from the gust. I’m surprised by the homey feel of the place. How could someone like me possibly feel at home in a country bar? Even if I was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, if I even owned jeans and cowboy boots, I wouldn’t fit in at a place like this.
I hear someone clear his throat and I turn to see a guy about my age, mid-twenties, standing next to me. I can’t help my surprise when I see he’s wearing khakis and a polo shirt, like he just stepped off of a golf course. He looks as out of place in this country bar as I feel.
“Are you Jake Wilde?” I ask.
The guy gives me the faintest hint of a smile but it’s almost as if it pains him to give that much. His deep brown eyes look even more distressed and I can’t help but wonder what’s behind those sad eyes.
He rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair. “A little windy out, isn’t it?”
My hand automatically goes to my hair and I try to casually flatten it down again. I imagine I must look like I just stepped out of a wind tunnel.
“Your hair looks fine,” the guy tries to assure me. But he’s got that hint of a smile on his face again and it makes me wonder if he’s lying just to make me feel better.
“I’m Cooper Wilde,” the guy says as he offers a hand.
I don’t know why I suddenly feel nervous about shaking it. It’s a business meeting. That’s what people do. But the way this guy is looking at me gives me the feeling that he might be interested in more than just business.
But I’m not, I remind myself. Not only because I’ve all but sworn off men, I’m here to do a job. I’ve been working for H & C Bank for two years and this is my first solo assignment as a lead investigator. If I continue to do well, I’ll be well on my way to becoming a Vice President before I turn thirty. I don’t need a man to throw me off my career trajectory. And definitely not some guy in a country bar in rural New Jersey.
I take his hand and give it a quick shake but I can’t bring my-self to look into his smoldering eyes again. “I’m Riley Smith.”
“I figured that,” Cooper says.
“Why is that?”
That hint of a smile has returned to his face again. “We don’t often get women in business suits in the bar.”
I’m not sure why I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to get a real smile out of Cooper Wilde. I don’t know even know the guy but it somehow seems important. I get the feeling he hasn’t really smiled in a while and it’s long overdue.
Not that I’ve had much occasion for real smiles myself lately.
“My brother will be here in a minute or two. He’s just printing a few documents from the computer. Purchase orders and receipts.”
I nod and look around the place. From the outside, I thought it was going to be a dive but the place actually has character. I can tell the wooden bar is old, and it looks hand carved, as do the barstools. There’s a large stage area that looks new. That’s one of the expenses I was charged with investigating. I try to image what the place looks like filled with patrons watching a local band play on a Friday night.
“Ms. Smith?” I hear a deeper male voice say.
I look up to see another guy approaching. He also looks around my age, mid-twenties, but he looks more like what I’d expect inside a country bar. He’s wearing a white button down shirt with jeans and cowboy boots. His hair is lighter than Cooper’s and his face is rounder, more boyish, but there’s definitely a family resemblance between these two guys. They’re both about the same height, around six feet, with athletic builds, like they play sports.
“I’m Jake Wilde,” the lighter haired guy says.
I try not to laugh as I look at Jake. He’s young, attractive and nothing like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven. So much for my speculation about his name.
I notice Jake has papers in his hands. “Maybe we should have a seat at one of the tables.” He motions to a table closest to us.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks. Jake has one thing that Cooper doesn’t. An absolutely killer smile. It’s the kind of smile that can probably get any girl into bed in a matter of minutes. Well, any girl except me. I no longer fall for guys with smiles like that. It hurts too much the next morning when they say they’ll call you, and give you that smile, and you know they’re lying and you’ll never hear from them again.
“I’ll take some water,” I reply.
Jake actually winks at me before he turns to head towards the bar. The guy knows how to charm people I’ll give him credit for that.
I notice Cooper now has the papers in his hand. Without saying anything, he sits down and I follow.
“I think this is everything you’ll need as far as the fraud investigation is concerned. We’ve got purchase orders for all of the improvements as well as receipts for the completed work. You’re sitting at one of the new tables right now. And you can see the new stage from here. I’d be happy to take you up to the new roof, if you’d like to see it.”
Cooper pushes the stack of papers toward me. I quickly thumb through them. I’ll make a few phone calls when I get back into the city to verify everything and cover my butt. At first glance, though, everything looks clean. It doesn’t seem like a case of fraud, more likely poor bookkeeping.
“The loan hasn’t been paid in months,” I say even though that’s not really my department. I’m here only for the fraud investigation. They’ll be dealing with someone else regarding the default on the loan.
“I know,” Cooper says, and I can see more darkness over-shadow his already dark eyes. “I’m going to try and fix that.”
Jake comes back with three bottles of water. “Bottle okay or would you like a glass?” he asks.
“Bottle is fine,” I say.
Jake sets the bottles down on the table and takes the seat right next to me. I’m a little taken aback by how much space he commands. And not just because of his size. It’s his energy—his being—that’s so large.
“So what did I miss?” Jake asks.
Cooper eyes his brother and I can see there’s a little bit of animosity between them. Or at least there is on Cooper’s part. Jake seems kind of oblivious to it.
Cooper rubs his temple and says, “I was just telling Miss Smith that we’re willing to cooperate with her investigation in any way we can. I’ve given her all of the documents she’ll need.”
“Great,” Jake says. He gives me another one of his charming smiles then looks at me like he’s undressing me with his eyes.
I reflexively pull my suit jacket tighter even though I’m revealing nothing. I’m wearing a conservative button-down banker’s suit but I still feel like Jake can see through it somehow.
“I’ll look at the papers more closely when I get back to the city. I assume these are copies I can take with me?”
“Of course,” Cooper replies. The guy is all business. It’s in sharp contrast to his brother who seems more like a non-stop-party kind of guy.
“Did you decide if you want to see the roof?” Cooper asks.
When Jake laughs, Cooper glares at him.
“What?” Jake says. “If that’s supposed to be a pick up line, you’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“It’s not a pick-up line,” Cooper says through clenched teeth.
Still grinning, Jake asks, “You’re really going to show her the roof?”
“It’s not necessary,” I state. The last place I want to be is in the middle of these two guys’ drama. There’s obviously a lot more going on than just showing me the roof.
Jake leans close to me and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s a spicy and masculine. “Why don’t you let me show you the new stage we had built?”
I can feel the heat radiating from his muscular body and I’m quickly reminded by my body’s reaction that I haven’t had sex in over six months.
I gulp. “That’s not necessary.”
I can feel several beads of sweat roll down my forehead. I’m getting hot, and it’s not because of the temperature of the room has changed. It’s Jake’s closeness to me.
I jump from my chair. “I have everything I need.” I feel like waving the papers in front of my face like a fan but I refrain. I just need to get out of the bar and away from Jake. Then I’ll be fine.
That’s what I tell myself anyway.
Cooper rises from the table and gives me an odd look. I wish I could figure out what it would take to make the guy smile but I can’t stay next to Jake a minute longer. He’s like catnip and I’m the cat. I need to escape and get some fresh air.
“Thank you both for your cooperation,” I say.
“You’ll let us know if you need anything else?” Cooper asks.
“I will. It was a pleasure meeting you.” I put out my hand for Cooper to shake.
This time, when he touches me, I make a point of looking into his eyes. They seem to have gotten even darker and deeper in just the last few minutes and that makes me even more curious about him.
Business, I remind myself. You’re here for business and then it’s back to the city.
“It was nice meeting you, too,” Cooper says and once again, he only gives me the hint of a smile.
When Jake clears his throat, it breaks the moment between me and Cooper. I’m embarrassed that I lost control. I’m supposed to be a professional.
I noticed Jake has his hand out and I realize he wants me to shake it. The last thing I want is to do is touch Jake. I don’t want to get caught up in his charismatic web like a fly.
I give him a ridiculous wave instead and I feel like an idiot when he frowns.
“I’d better get going,” I say as I turn and make my way toward the door.
When I look back at the two brothers, they’re both staring at me. I don’t know why that makes me so nervous. I don’t plan on ever seeing either one of them again.
When I’m finally outside, I take in a deep breath of what I think will be fresh air and instead, I’m assaulted by the small of cow manure.
Great. Just great.
I hop into my car and turn the air conditioning up as high as it will go. I take in another deep breath and try to get the stench of cow dung out of my nasal passages. I can’t believe I’m shaking. I’m not sure if it’s because of Cooper or Jake. Maybe it’s a little of both. But I’m definitely rattled.
I just need to get out of Old Town and get back to the city, I tell myself. Then things will get back to normal.
As I put the car into reverse and begin to pull out of my parking space, I keep thinking: I just need to get out of here and get back to the city.
When I step on the accelerator to go forward, I drive right into an old Chevy pick-up truck that’s headed straight for me.
Romance novelist Savannah Young grew up in rural northwest New Jersey in a place very similar to the fictional Old Town, which is featured in her books. When she’s not at her computer creating spicy stories, Savannah is traveling to exotic locales or spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds.
Bridget Ross is a woman with a shameful secret. Despite a life full of success and close friends she denies herself her true desires in penance for the crimes she can’t take back.
Connor Reynolds is a man without a purpose. His own tragic past prevents him from putting down roots and pursuing his dreams.
Their paths collide forcing them to face the ultimate question … is their love worth confronting their deepest fears and insecurities?
“I have no idea why you don’t see yourself as sexy, but you are. From your brain all the way down to your perfectly painted toes. Everything about you is erotic as hell. You get me hard in the same breath that you intrigue me with some thought you just spoke.”
She turned her eyes away and flushed even deeper at the mention of him getting hard over her. She was no prude, but she wasn’t used to men so casually discussing sexual things with her.
He didn’t say anything else, but he did shift until he was sitting more closely beside her. She could feel the heat from his skin through the jeans he wore. The cotton of his T-shirt did nothing to mask it either. A soft breeze washed over them and she could smell the light woodsy scent of whatever soap he used. Her entire body was instantly attuned to his.
She saw his hand move but was still surprised when he gently tipped her chin up to look at him. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the depth of the desire she saw in his face was not it. She responded almost violently. Her nipples sprang to life, hardening and tingling against the simple cotton of her bra. She went liquid at her core and her heart rate kicked up a notch.
“I want to kiss you, Bridget. Hell, let’s be real, I want to do a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I want to start with kissing you.”
His eyes had deepened to an almost gunmetal gray with lust. She was completely mesmerized by his obvious desire for her, by the touch of his fingers on her chin, by the scent of his body so closed to hers. She didn’t bother reaching for words, she just nodded.
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. They were warm, and soft. As he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth, she could feel the rasp of stubble from where he’d shaved earlier that day. His tongue leisurely explored her mouth. No crevice went without tending, but he didn’t force his attention on her.
His hand ran gently up her body, stopping briefly to cup her breast. He lingered but a moment as if testing the weight and shape before moving up her body. She luxuriated in the feel of him. The soft invasion of his tongue in her mouth was both foreign and familiar throwing her even further off kilter.
She moaned and leaned into him bringing one hand to rest on his thigh which flexed under her fingers. Her blood was thrumming through her veins and she felt her body tuning to him. Any lingering embarrassment over the portrait was forgotten as she gave herself up to his kiss.
She could kiss him forever.
Connor brought his hand to her neck and exerted gentle pressure to lean her backwards at the same time he turned and subtly shifted his body to cover hers.
She didn’t think, she simply reacted. Her knee connected with his balls and he exploded back from her curling into the fetal position with a sharp cry.
“Connor!” she scrambled to her hands and knees as realization sank in, “Oh my god! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Hot tears began to run down her face and she chanted her apology over and over. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were clamped closed and he rocked back and forth, the pain evident on his face.
It was time to face facts. There was no use pretending anymore. She was just too broken.
About the Author
Hailing from Washington, DC, Elene Sallinger first caught the writing bug in 2004 after writing and illustrating several stories for her then four-year-old daughter. Her writing career has encompassed two award-winning children’s stories, a stint as a consumer-education advocate, as well as writing her debut novel, Awakening – a novel of erotic fiction that won the New Writing Competition at the Festival of Romance 2011.
Jeffery Ellison and Monica Collins face off daily in Atlanta’s family court system. Both want the best for their clients but they rarely agree. The sparks are obvious to everyone else but Monica has been disappointed by men too many times. Jeff knows pushing her will only hurt the respect and trust they’ve built. A match with 1NS sounds like just the thing. The pair is off to Vegas for a legal conference and to enjoy their one night stands. Jeff does his best to spend time with her outside of work but he can’t be sure she’s his for the night. All Jeff can do is hope that Madame Eve agrees with his heart and Monica will let her guard down long enough to see their passionate potential.
About the Author:
A lover of unusual things, Cheryl Dragon enjoys writing unique stories with sinfully hot erotic romance. Her two favorite settings are Las Vegas and New Orleans… where anything can happen! Cheryl lives in the Chicagoland area with her deaf albino cat.
Decorator Sophia Alano’s career gets side-tracked from the moment she meets hot shot Scotland Yard detective Chauncey Miller. On the run in Boston, Chauncey must now protect this spitfire Pixie from the madman out for revenge. But once he catches their would-be killer, how does he hold onto his Pixie decorator?
“I have a favor to ask,” Grace said from behind her desk, pencil in hand and dimple in place. “I need you to pick up David’s latest recruit from Scotland Yard at Logan Airport today and keep him busy for the day. Show him around.”
Sophia couldn’t stop her usual sarcasm in spite of the fact that Grace was her boss as well as her best friend. This so-called favor made no sense. Even for Grace.
“Are you serious?” Sophia planted her hands on her hips. “Let me make sure I understand you–You’re asking me to babysit one of David’s Scotland Yard hot shots on the eve of my possible career breakthrough?”
Grace nodded. Her big blue eyes were wide and honest. Something was up.
“That’s crazy talk. Tomorrow’s the shoot for the audition tape.” Sophia knew that Grace knew this since Grace helped set it up for her, but she felt it was worth mentioning the obvious.
“Yes. I know.” Grace smiled then looked back down at her drawing. “And a distraction is exactly what you need to keep your nerves at bay.”
“What? My nerves are fine.” If her dam voice hadn’t squeaked at that moment, she’d have been more convincing. Something was definitely up. And Sophia would never admit it to Grace, but she did feel a bit edgy–if edginess included nausea, headaches and sleeplessness.
“I know you.” Grace paused and gave her the serious-yet-loving older-sister type look that she mostly put up with. “This will be good for you and…and I’d really appreciate it.”
Grace was playing dirty pool now with that appreciation bit, but Sophia still didn’t buy it.
“And what if I didn’t have time today? Were you going to tear me away from my project?”
“Actually, yes. I wasn’t going to mention it, but some of the men were complaining about your presence at the set and asked me to have you back off just a smidge.” Grace scrunched her brow. “But don’t worry, honey, they think you’re wonderful. It’s just lately…”
“Great. That’s great.” Her hands flew into the air. “I got painters and paperhangers and carpenters talking to my boss behind my back.” This was not good. She plunked herself on the edge of Grace’s desk and folded her arms. She tried staring at the stack of fabric samples on the other side of the office so Grace wouldn’t notice if a tear slipped out. Because, damn it, she might be on the brink of crying.
Grace picked up the box of tissues and handed it to her. “You’ll be alright, Pixie honey. This is the perfect way to get your mind off everything to do with decorating and the design show audition filming and TV cameras. I’m asking for a one-day one-shot favor.”
Grace’s voice sounded a little too sweet, even for her, and “Pixie honey” or no “Pixie honey”, that was cause for suspicion. She blew her nose. Okay, so maybe she needed a break, but she wasn’t convinced that playing tour guide to some British guy fresh off the boat…or rather airline–was the way to go.
“I’m saving up my vacation time and I don’t think you have the authority to assign me to pick up some random guy at Logan Airport and show him around town while I’m on the clock. We’re in the decorating business.” She remained seated on the edge of Grace’s desk, tossed the balled-up tissue in a basket halfway across the small office and re-folded her arms. “Besides it doesn’t even sound safe.” She blew the blunt-cut bangs off her forehead for emphasis.
Grace looked at her with that smile and said, “He’s from Scotland Yard, honey. Of course it’s safe. It’ll be fun. I don’t know what you’re worried about.” Her face brightened and she added, “You don’t have to use vacation time. Consider it a client recruitment assignment.” Grace went back to the sketch she’d been working on.
Sophia looked at her best friend and boss with a suspicious squint. What it sounded like to her was another one of Grace’s blind date set-ups in disguise.
About the Author:
Stephanie Queen lives in bucolic New Hampshire where writing happy, snappy romances takes most of her time. However you can also find her watching UConn football and basketball games whenever they’re on TV, and sometimes even in person. Right now, she’s busy writing her next book in the Scotland Yard Exchange Program Series. Visit her website to learn more at StephanieQueen.com or connect with Stephanie Queen on Twitter or Facebook.
Jael James’s mother’s death brought to light her destiny. Now it is time for her to step up and take her mother’s place as the Grim Reaper. Between ghosts, Death, and Nathan her, EMT partner, she has her hands full.
Slumber wrapped heavily around Jael James like a familiar blanket. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but something woke her. Nightmare? No. Alarm? No. That’s when she smelled him. His cologne was unmistakable. It had planted itself firmly in her memory, so no matter what, she couldn’t forget it. Almost like the man himself. She couldn’t forget him, either.
“Jael, darling. We need to speak,” he said from what sounded like the foot of her bed.
“Not now.” She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but Jael knew he stepped out of its path. “I worked the night shift, and I need my beauty sleep.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead.” He growled at her.
She pulled her comforter up over her head and snuggled deep into the bed, trying to ignore him. Her eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t going to leave until he’d done what he came to do. She was doing to do her best to ignore him when she felt him grab a hold of the blanket, pulling it off her from the bottom of the bed.
“Go away!” Jael shouted, glad she’d slept in a pair of shorts and tank top instead of just the T-shirt she was accustomed to. The shorts were small and tight, but at least all her important parts were covered.
“Come. I’ll make the coffee.”
Coffee was the only way he would get her out of bed. Jael let out a grumble as she crawled out of bed. She fought the heaviness of sleep weighing down her eyelids. The clock on the bedside table glared in her dark room. Seven o’clock in the morning. “Someone needs to explain to him the proper visiting times,” she mumbled.
She continued complaining to herself about her mere hour of sleep when the floor-to-ceiling window curtains were opened. Oh, he is going to pay now. She’d paid good money to have dark, sun-blocking curtains made for such large windows. Though she loved her loft looking out over the city, without those curtains, she would have moved. Being a night owl through and through, she didn’t want to be woke by the sun each morning.
“Are you crazy?” she yelled as she pounded down the steps.
She found him, all six-foot five, clad in black from head-to-toe, at the bottom of the stairs, a coffee cup in his hand.
“I’m Death. Crazy is part of the job description.”
About the Author:
Born and raised in the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area, Marissa Dobson now resides about an hour from Washington, D.C. She is a lady who likes to keep busy, and is always busy doing something. With two different college degrees, she believes you are never done learning.
Being the first daughter to an avid reader, this gave her the advantage of learning to read at a young age. Since learning to read she has always had her nose in a book. It wasn’t until she was a teenager that she started writing down the stories she came up with.
Marissa is blessed with a wonderful supportive husband, Thomas. He is her other half and allows her to stay home and pursue her writing. He puts up with all her quirks and listens to her brainstorm in the middle of the night?
Her writing buddies Max (a cocker spaniel) and Dawne (a beagle mix) are always around to listen to me bounce ideas off them. They might not be able to answer, but they are helpful in their own ways.
Lindsay Beckett longed to be reunited with her first love, Quinn Montgomery, until she learns the secret that sent him fleeing from her in the first place. He’s an alien, a Hemera, and she’s half-Hemera herself. As if that wasn’t enough to ruin her dreams of a perfect life, when their child is born, they discover she fulfills a prophesy told twenty light years away and many years ago. Lindsay wants to ignore it, until her husband is murdered and suddenly believing becomes a matter of survival.
Lindsay and her young daughter are forced to rely on another Hemera, her husband’s partner and best friend, Bryce Beuermann as more and more of the Hemera are slaughtered. Bryce will do anything to help his best friend’s widow—including suppressing his own deep feelings for her. But he must prove they can trust him, even pretending he doesn’t want her with all his heart.
When Bryce and Lorne removed their socks and set their feet on the coffee table, she flushed. She’d had many opportunities over the summer to look at his feet, particularly when he wore only his swim trunks. But she’d kept her distance, catching only the occasional glimpse of his broad, bare chest or other parts of his body, wondering if they matched what she’d seen in her visions.
Both Bryce and Lorne’s toes remained held apart by skin, noticeable skin. Unlike the translucent and pliable tissue which formed between her own toes, theirs appeared thicker, widening the total width of the front of their feet.
“We are not from around here,” Lorne said. He removed his feet from the table and brushed them across the plush carpet. “Your mother, Quinn, and your father, Lindsay, as well as Bryce and I, are from another planet located twenty light years from Earth.”
She turned to her husband, waiting for his reaction. They were his guests telling the ridiculous story. If they were friends of hers, she would have told them to leave.
Quinn only raised his eyebrows. She couldn’t read his expression as he stared at Bryce. “This is not the time to be discussing this. We’ve just returned from out holidays, our honeymoon at that.”
“No, this is the time. We should have talked about this long ago.”
Her gaze shifted between the two of them. This has to be some kind of gag, but this is more likely to come from Michael and Francis, not Bryce, not based on anything Quinn had ever said about him. The punch line didn’t come and Quinn gripped her hand tighter. This is no joke.
Maintaining his dry expression, Bryce continued. “I’ve known all along. I remember my trip to Earth and being placed with the Beuermanns. I don’t remember my parents though.” His chin fell to his chest. “It’s not easy living with a secret like this. I figured my best friend should know.”
Bryce told what he believed to be the truth, but despite her belief in aliens, she refused to accept anyone in the room came from anywhere but Earth.
“I’m sorry, Lindsay.” Quinn refused to look at her, but maintained his hold on her hand.
She’d never felt more uncomfortable than this moment. What did Quinn believe? That he’s an alien?
About the Author:
Jessica Subject started writing to encourage her daughter to read. Now she writes to keep herself grounded. Although she reads many genres, she enjoys writing Science Fiction Romance the most and believes everyone in the universe deserves a happily ever after. She lives Southwestern Ontario, Canada with her husband and two kids and loves to hear from anyone who has enjoyed her stories.