Lucky Number Four


Amanda Jason

For my friends and family, who have all been my biggest supporters through this entire process. Without them I would never have been able to follow my dream of writing my first novel.


Where do I start? I guess at the beginning with my Mum and Dad, because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be here. Their love and support have helped me make it through all the bad times, and they’ve always been there to help me celebrate the good times.

Very special thanks to my husband, Bob, for all of his love and support throughout this entire process. Oh, and of course without him there would be no Stephanie (my daughter), Adam (my son), or the twins (Amanda and Jason).

Big thanks should go to my son Adam. He came to me in the spring of 2010 to ask me if I wanted to write a Young Adult/Middle Grade book, and I immediately jumped at the chance. Writing a book was number one on my bucket list, and he knew that. We’ve written three books together under the pen name C.A. Kunz, but then took a break to write our own novels. When I decided to write Lucky Number Four, Adam was behind me one hundred percent, and even though we weren’t writing it together, he was there any time I needed to vent about where the story was going, and I’m ever-so-thankful for his help. What else can I say about my son, Adam? Well, he’s my rock, he inspires me to carry on, and he’s my hero. I’m truly blessed to have a son like him! Thank you, son, for giving your Mom her dream.

On this journey I’ve met some truly AWESOME people, people I hold dear to my heart, and it would take a whole book to name them all. So, THANK YOU everyone that I’ve met on this journey, and yes, this means YOU!

I do have some special people that I really do need to mention. These ladies gave up their time to help me with extensive editing and suggestions. They are Megan Bagley, Misty Provencher, Hollie Westring, and Raine Thomas. A thank you is truly not enough for what you’ve all done for me and I cherish each and every one of you.

I started my dream late in life so I have words of wisdom for you: FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS, DON’T WAIT…DO IT NOW!

In closing, I LOVE YOU ALL, and I sincerely hope you enjoy my debut novel, Lucky Number Four.


-Amanda Jason aka Carol Kunz aka half of C.A. Kunz


“Oh my God, I can’t wait anymore! Please, please, harder, harder. Deeper, deeper. I’m almost the fuck there. Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh.”

No, I’m not watching porn. In fact, I’m lying here in my semi-dark room listening to one. Actually, it’s the sexual antics of my two very best friends, who were only married a month ago.

“Oh, baby, I think I’m gonna …. Ahhhhhhhh yeaaaaaaaah.”

“Yesssssss, I feel it. Harder, harder!”

By the sound of it, you would think this was their first time, and really, I can’t believe they’re being so inconsiderate. I mean, the walls aren’t soundproof. I left them alone for a month after the wedding, trying to give them alone time as a newly married couple. All the while I was suffering—I mean, spending “quality time” with my family back home.

Oh, thank heaven. Now all I can hear is muffled voices. Maybe I can finally get some sleep.

One hour later…I’m still not asleep.

I haven’t heard any more noises through the wall, which is good thing, but now my throat is dry and I’m thirsty. I swear if it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Jumping out of bed, I listen at the door for any movement. Hearing none, I make my way to the kitchen. Turning the corner, I find the fridge door open and a naked Kevin Browning, the newlywed, standing there. I’m frozen as he bends over and moons me. I must have made a noise because he suddenly straightens and turns. My eyes immediately focus on his nether region.

“Hey Dora, can’t sleep either?” His voice penetrates my brain, but I don’t look up. “A little different from when we played ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ when we were seven, huh?”

Mortified at being caught staring, my eyes fly up to meet his grinning mouth. “Geez, Kev. Couldn’t you have at least put your boxers on?” I say as I swivel and take my hot (I know it’s totally red) face back to my room. I cringe as I hear him laughing behind me. “Jerk. Hope it rots off,” I mumble, making him laugh harder.

Slamming my door, I fall back on my bed and fume. I really don’t want his penis to drop off. He and Julie are my best friends, and I don’t want her to have a dickless spouse. I’m not that mean.

I hear them talking through walls and then Julie laughing. Putting my pillow over my head, I pray for sleep.

The next morning, work is hectic, of course, not giving me a break because of my lack of sleep. Seven mornings a week, I work as a barista in a wonderful coffee shop a block away from our apartment. Five afternoons of the week though, I’m stuck in classes at the local university.

Today is Monday, and after my five-hour shift, I have three wonderfully boring classes back-to-back. I feel like I’ve been in college all my life. I’m jealous that Julie has graduated early, gotten married, and has secured a real job. But I’m stubborn. I could’ve had my maternal grandmother pay my way, but the price had been too high. What normal girl goes to “finishing school” the summer she graduates from high school? Nope, couldn’t and wouldn’t do it. What the hell is finishing school anyway? Isn’t that like an ancient practice? So, because of my stubbornness, I’m a year behind in terms of graduating.

Sadness floods me as I realize I need to move out of our apartment. The newlyweds need their space, and I don’t need a nightly reminder of my sexless existence, just another thing to add to my feel-sorry-for-me list.

Shopping is usually an escape for me, unless it’s for boring groceries. Why can’t we just skip eating? I mean, I could afford to lose a pound or two. But no, it’s my turn to do the shopping, and I have to do that often because I hate to cook. Thank goodness Kevin is a chef and it’s his night off. With his deliciously wicked meals, I’ll gain two pounds instead.

Entering the local supermarket, I grab a cart and glance over at the colorful announcement board. Nestled among the ads for items for sale, dating sites and such, I spy a flyer with numerous perforated tabs at the bottom.




Wishing they had put the unbelievable rent amount on the flyer, I grab one of the little slips of paper and decide it’s worth a shot. I have nothing to lose. Tucking the slip into my purse, I put my backpack in the cart and start my journey with grocery list in hand.

A mouthwatering smell greets me at home when I arrive with two full grocery bags and my ever full backpack. I hear Kevin humming in the kitchen and he pops around the corner, apparently hearing me coming down the hallway.

“Ah, she has arrived with the rest of the ingredients for tonight’s cuisine.” He grabs the two bags from my aching arms and plops them down on the counter. “Hey chick, you look tired. You know you should really get more sleep.”

I want to wipe that grin from his face, but I can never stay mad at Kevin for very long, I just can’t.

“Julie called. She’ll be late. The slave driver wanted an impromptu office meeting. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Why don’t you take a nap?”

“I wish. I unfortunately have homework that won’t do itself. Your day must have been good since you’re so happy and all.”

“Every day is an awesome day,” he says. “I have a job I love, a woman I love, and a roommate I adore. What else could a man ask for?”

I shake my head at his dimpled cheeks as he smiles. Growing up in a small town, Julie, Kevin, and I were like the Three Musketeers. Our parents were good friends and we went on family camping trips and vacations together. It was like having three sets of parents, which was fun until we got into trouble, and then it was a nightmare.

Kevin was goofy looking when he was younger, and majorly awkward when he went through his growth spurt until he reached his final height of six foot three and a half. His parents encouraged him to play sports and he excelled, winning a scholarship to a college out west. His dark brown hair, good looks, height and adorable dimples had panting females following him everywhere.

In contrast, Julie is blonde, fair-skinned and, like me, short. We had a growing contest as kids and to our delight, we grew to the same height of five feet four inches.

We would never be mistaken as twins, though. She always looks put together and I always look thrown together. I think she’s far prettier too. Her natural light blonde hair is straight and falls like a waterfall down her back. Well, when she doesn’t have it up for her job as a social worker. Mine is a red, curly mess. It’s as long as Julie’s, but mine could never be described as a waterfall—more like tangled vines. I don’t tan, but Julie can and used to. Now she shies away from the sun since her dad was diagnosed with skin cancer. Her skin is blemish free while mine has a few freckles—okay, so I have more than a few. Sun kisses, my dad calls them. We both have curves. Not fat, but not skinny and no cellulite yet.