Rough and Hard - 1
I need to thank a hundred extra people this time round… Top of my list is my little gang of hotties. David, Rach and C.J, you freaking rock my socks off. Without you three, I would have fallen flat on my face, ass in the air and stayed there. Thanks for covering the goods.
Pebbles, as always, you make my world a better place. You’re so cemented in my life I’m not sure how I managed without you before now. The blinding love and care you, your friends and family have lent to me will make me forever humble and blessed. There aren’t many people left who will take you as you are and love you unconditionally for it. This makes you one of a kind. You’ve sticky taped this bitch together until the glue sets. You jump, I jump.
My Care Bear, for your rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted” and distracting me with long-ass Skype chats on nights where I couldn’t write—thanks to you, the words came unstuck. You deserve all the love in the world, sweetheart, and I’m lucky to have you.
C.C, for your kickass words of wisdom and fun chats. Holly for all the references and sexy cowboy names. My amazing editor, Becky. Love your face off, hooker! LM Creations, for promo images and teasers, you’re out of this world crazy amazing!
My amazing yet painful minions. I love you all to the moon and back. Again, you astound me daily; I’ve not been any prouder of anything else I’ve accomplished. No matter how you drive me crazy, I can look at you while you sleep and be certain I don’t actually want to punch you in the throat.
This book was written at a time where I was lost and confused. I needed a lifeline to pull me out of the dark days. When the people who meant the most to me had hurt me or deserted me in my time of need, there was one person who stood by me though it all. For every man or woman who’s in need of a cowboy to take them away … even for a little while.
Destry is not as funny as my other books. While there are some hot steamy scenes, it's more a contemporary romance than humorous erotica. In my eyes at least. I will let y'all be the judge of that regardless. Just please keep an open mind when going in... you may giggle a time or two, but it's definitely not the same category.
I've written this book at a time in my life when I was looking for something short, sweet and light. So that's what Destry is. I do hope you enjoy him.
Pulling my car up into the drive of my perfect yard, with my perfectly straight flowerbeds and perfectly manicured grass, I parked my car and made my way inside my equally perfect house. Slipping my heels off at the door, I scooped them up as I made my way up the stairs. I needed a long soak in a bubble bath, with maybe a scented candle or two, and perhaps a glass of wine, or three. I could then relax and contemplate my apparently, perfect life.
I’d gotten off work early, and rather than stopping to do the grocery shopping like I should have, I’d come home to freshen up. Maybe I’d be lucky and get in some alone time before I had to play my part.
Just two more months and I’d officially be Mrs. Wesley Longstone. Wife to an extremely successful advertising agent. Our relationship was a complex one. We’d been together for around two years. And over the last two years, I was doing what was expected of me, rather than what was making me happy.
I had to learn to love Wesley. He wasn’t at all the type I would have chosen for myself. How it worked in our family was the daughters were supposed to marry somebody with equal breeding, equal intellect and equal money.
Love had nothing to do with it.
Highstone women married for social standing.
It was just the way it was. Taking it all in my stride, we had reached a point where we were happy and content. I would continue to play my part and would learn to love him.
Dragging my tired feet down the plush beige carpet, I pushed open my bedroom door. My eyes took a second to adjust to the low light and quickly registered the scene playing out in front of me.
In slow motion, my heels dropped from my hand to the floor with a loud clap; I stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away. There, on my one-thousand count white Egyptian sheets, was my fiancé going to town on a busty brunette.
She was bent over, holding onto my mahogany headboard while he rammed into her from behind making growling and grunting sounds. He was also pulling her pigtailed hair.
Admittedly, my first thought was, “What the hell is he wearing?” Instead, I gasped, “Nikki!”
They visibly jerked at the sound of my voice. Wesley spun around so quickly, he almost tumbled off the bed. My stomach recoiled, bile rising in my throat. Swallowing hard, I choked it down and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not a peep.
Wesley stood up from the bed, sweating and panting, wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of leather chaps.
Nothing else. I didn’t know if I should laugh, yell or cry at that point; the entire situation was ridiculous.
He started toward me with his hands out in a placating gesture. Talking so quickly, his sentences jumbled together, becoming one rush of exhaled words. He continued to inch toward me. “Now, precious, it’s not what you think. I swear it. I just… well, it was just… she… she means nothing to me. It was an accident.”
I looked from Wesley, in his ridiculous little costume, to Nikki, my sister, and back again. I couldn’t seem to get my body to cooperate with my mind, which had other things to think about.
A fucking accident?
“Are you kidding me?” I took a breath to calm myself but hissed out, “Are you freakin’ kidding me! You’re—you—” I choked back the urge to vomit and punch him in the face. My throat constricted and the bridge of my nose tingled, but there was no way I would give them the satisfaction of seeing me anything other than angry.
I looked to my sister. We’d never been close, but this was low down and dirty period. “I should have known he was as slimy as a barrel of snakes, but you? I never thought you would, Nikki. Really? Why?” She quickly threw her clothes back on, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Please, don’t let me stop y’all. You clearly deserve each other. Have at it,” I said, waving my hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. Turning, I walked mechanically back downstairs, snagging my purse and keys from the hall table and out the door to my car.
“Amelia! Wait! Please! Let me explain. Amelia!” Wesley yelled out behind me.
I made it to the door of my car before a hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around and came face-to-face with Nikki, looking not nearly as remorseful as she should be. I hissed through clenched teeth, “Get your goddamn hand off me, before I break it.”
I shifted so her hand slipped off and fell to her side. She just had to open her now pouting mouth. “Look this sort of thing happens, all right? It happens all the time. You don’t need to throw a fit, Amelia. Just move on. It’s easy.”
Is she shittin’ me?
I looked her up and down, noticing her flushed face, crumpled dress, her smeared whore-red lipstick and hair tied in loose and messy pigtails. She looked just that. A complete mess. My sister had never had the greatest of morals, but this was a new level of depravity even for her trashy ass.
Without another word, I reared my hand back and planted my fist, fast and hard, on the very tip of her precious nose. The satisfying crunch I heard and clear break under my knuckles made me a little too happy.
As she screamed and fell to the ground cupping her bloody face, Wesley chose that very moment to run out the front door. His stupid outfit now gone, he stopped dead watching me shaking out my hand while Nikki flailed around on the ground, squealing like the dirty pig she was.
That was the moment I lost all control.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up my chest and found its way out of my lips. I flipped them both the bird and jumped in my silver Audi. Starting it up in record time, I took off like a bat out of hell, speeding through our neighborhood, headed anywhere but there.
I’d been driving for what felt like hours. My eyes were sore and puffy from the crying jags I had suffered through, and my mind was spinning. The image of them together permanently burned into my mind’s eye. And to top it all off, I was starting to think I had broken my damn hand when I punched my skank of a sister in her pretty face.
Not so pretty anymore, are you, Nikki?
My knuckles were swollen, throbbing and bruised in a multitude of colors already. I cried for the betrayal. I cried for the humiliation and the devastation of my sister, being so cunning.
I even cried for the sheets they ruined.
What I didn’t do was cry about him.
I didn’t feel that sense of loss for him I would have expected. Strangely enough, I felt relieved. My left hand felt as if it weighed about twenty pounds lighter without the engagement ring I had ripped off my finger and thrown at the pretty white sign that read ‘You are now leaving Mansfield. Come back again soon’.
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