“Choosing you would complicate everything, yet it’s the most uncomplicated choice I’ve ever made.”
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When life gave you lemons, you learned who stayed and made lemonade with you. Or something to that effect. And the day Ellis Hayes kidnapped me—or, borrowed a yacht and didn’t know I was on board—he’d definitely been handed too many lemons.
We faced a dilemma when I woke up hungover in the middle of the ocean. He needed to get the hell out of town to do some soul-searching and decide whether or not to divorce his wife, and I needed to get back on land because humans didn’t belong on the water. There was also better cell service on land, and I had my four-year-old daughter on vacation in Paris to check in with.
Then I remembered I wasn’t a complete tool. Ellis wasn’t doing all right, and we were practically family. I had to stay and make lemonade with him. Of course, me being me, seemingly undateable and complicated, I had to develop feelings for him, too.
It looked like I was gonna poke him with some flirting, after all, because when he had one foot in the tender and the other on the yacht, I couldn’t resist.
“Has anyone ever told you how delicious you look with your legs spread?”
He grabbed the cooler from me. “No, you’d be the first. Thank you for being gentle.”
Sad day for me; he’d figured out my game and didn’t let it ruffle his feathers this time. On the other hand, now I could add witty to the list. I loved witty comebacks.
“In fact…” He pointed at a duffel on the platform, which I handed over. “I barely felt anything.”
“What the—” I stared at him, incredulous. Did he really go there? Oh, he did. That sexy, sly son of a bitch. “You actually… Wow.”
As I checked the time on my phone, I thought I could text Ellis, but a message from Marilyn popped up right then and there.
Hello, Casey. I have some pressing matters I’d like to discuss with you in regards to Ellis’s and my son. Rather, your involvement. Do you mind if I come over after work?
I rubbed my forehead, the unease spreading through me like wildfire. This is it. Things were going too fucking smoothly, and now…now, fuck.
Swallowing the rising anxiety, I fired off a quick reply.
Yeah, sure. I’ll be at home.
And Ellis wouldn’t be. He was in and out of meetings all day and would be home late. I should call him, though. Unless he already knew she was coming? No, he would’ve given me a heads up.
Drumming out the jitters was an impossible feat now, so I turned to Beyoncé. When life gave you lemons, she knew a thing or two about lemonade.
I was going to need vodka with mine.
About the Author:
I’m often stoically silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve. Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.