Catch My Fall (47 page)

I was nervous, but excited. Not just by the assurance of both he and Evan that the game would be met with a good amount of appreciation, (and by appreciation, my Virgo and my billionaire meant money) but because something I’d created, something I was proud of was going out into the world.

Money or no, I was ready to say I’d made something, and though cash money would be a nice thing to have, oddly enough, I wasn’t so worried about that anymore.

The fire called to me. I settled down into my favorite chair and reached for something to read on the side table. I spotted a dog-eared page, picked up the book, and began reading.

I was three pages in before I realized what I was reading. I tossed the book onto the floor.

Stellan looked up from his work. “What’s up?”

I grumbled. “
Pussy, King of the
God damn
Pirates
, that’s what’s up. I swear to God, this book is mocking me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and I reminded him of the absolute derision I felt for the brain cell melting power of its pages. “I feel like I get stupider every time I read it.”

“Did you just say ‘stupider?’”

“See?!”

He laughed. “Write that in comic form, please?”

I grinned at him and bent down to pick up the book from the floor. “I will.”

“And burn the book.”

I was enticed, turning to the fireplace with a wicked grin. Yet, I didn’t throw it in. “Still can’t do it. Feels sacrilegious.”

“Pussy.”

I flipped him the bird. He blew me a kiss.

I turned the book over in my hands, skimming the back cover before deciding that despite my seething hatred for every page, it might be someone else’s Keat
s. And even if not, I just couldn’t burn it.

I then remembered that my mom had a stock pile of books to donate in her trunk. Perfect. I decided to head outside and add it to the mix.

I stopped in the hallway, glancing back at Stellan. “Are you working for long?”

“No, I can stop. Why?”

“Cause I’m gonna fuck your brains out when I get back in.”

I headed toward the kitchen.

He called after me. “I fucking love you, you know that right?”

“You bettah! Now take off your pants!”

My slippered feet hit the snowy deck, and I pulled my sweater tight against the flurries. The birds were riled by my appearance, but not enough to scatter from the feeders. I cracked mom’s trunk and tossed the book into one of the bags, stuffing it under a book on Monet so no one would mistake my mother for one who would read such ‘Avant garbage.’ I shut the trunk softly to avoid upsetting the birds.

They were in a snow inspired tizzy. This was Grammy Jensen’s favorite time to watch them, when the snow was falling. I gasped at a flash of red and watched the male Cardinal peck through the seed. He was joined by his Missus, their colors bright against the crowd of brown and black sparrows. I watched a moment, enjoying the chaos. At this rate, the feeders would need to be refilled by the end of the day.

I turned back toward the stairs and stopped. A small brown and black bird landed on the railing between me and the door. He tilted his head to the side, watching me. Then he hopped once, ruffled his feathers and sang.

Madge-Madge-Madge-put-on-your-tea-kettle-ettle.

He stared at me, waiting for a response.

I smiled.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michaela Wright is an American author with a 'bordering on unhealthy' relationship with Deep Fried Mars Bars, Scottish Accents, Iced Caramel Lattes, and commas. Her long standing love of history and ghost stories (and a staunch belief in soul mates) has resulted in many a randy love story, often told over the backdrop of some of the darkest moments in history. These interests have inspired a Google search history that has most likely resulted in an FBI dossier on her, but that's neither here nor there.
      
Author of WRITING MR RIGHT, and the Gothic Mystery Series, THE NAMESAKEN, Michaela lives in Chelmsford, Massachusetts with her daughter and a cat named Chapter. When she isn't writing, she's performing aerial silks in her backyard or hula hooping, and on some occasions, sipping a Cider with friends until her own fake Scottish Accent comes out.

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Also from Michaela Wright

More Contemporary Titles from Michaela Wright

WRITING MR RIGHT
-
What would you do if every word you wrote came true? 
That's Georgia's blessing - or curse. Ever since she was little, if Georgia Kilduff wrote a wish on paper, that wish would come true. 
Except for one - Georgia can't seem to write her Happily Ever After. 
Now a successful romance novelist, Georgia travels the world signing copies of her novels for avid fans of her main character - 'the perfect man,' Douglas MacCready. 
Get in line, ladies. Georgia loves him too. If only he really existed. 
When she meets Garrett MacCauley - a charming book store owner in Inverness - Georgia is startled by some striking similarities, from his middle name to a scar on his right hand. Hell, he even shags like him! 
But Douglas MacCready can't be real. He's just a character in her book, right? 
Or has Georgia carried him with her all along? 
A story of love and destiny, WRITING MR. RIGHT shows the magic of true love, the mischief of fate, and reminds us all that when two people are meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart. 

THE BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE
-
Steven is a private escort, and a mighty fine one at that. He takes pride in catering to the needs of his female clientele, from the cut of his suit to the color of his kerchief. Despite experience, there is one client that rattles him; Martina, a passionate woman who treats herself to Steven's services as a birthday present every year. Their liaisons have left Steven with a crush, only driving him further to meet her every need. When Steven arrives at Martina's door he is ready to wine, dine, and please his favorite client, but by night's end we will discover that Martina - and Steven - are not who they seem. 

For readers with a love of steamy Gothic Mysteries

THE NAMESAKEN Series –

WILLING
–
Street savvy Constance is a prostitute that has survived the Ripper's reign of terror by working her trade in the safety of her room at the Keg and Barrel - but is any girl truly safe in Whitechapel? When the enigmatic Lord Alisdair requests her services at his estate, Constance discovers the occult underworld of London's elite - and finds herself at its center. 
As Alisdair shares his secrets, Constance becomes his willing altar, offering herself to him and his rituals in body and soul. She's seen Alisdair's power, seen it grow with her at his side, but as the circle's secrets unfold before them, will their connection be enough to get them through London's darkest hour alive? 

HYSTERIA
-
Her sanctuary turns into a nightmare after sunset. 
On the run from her abusive mother, inexperienced Liv was very lucky to find honest employment as a scullery maid in the household of Dr. Findlay Lennox. Unfortunately, her luck runs out at nightfall, when the ghosts that only Liv can see steal away any hope of sleep, leaving her clumsy with exhaustion. 
Her employer offers her the most personal of services.
 
Dr. Lennox is well versed in a very special treatment for female complaints. His experiments on prostitutes have given him intimate knowledge of the female anatomy, allowing him to manipulate it as an effective treatment for hysteria, melancholy, and as he assures Liv, sleeplessness. Liv reluctantly agrees to be his patient, but cannot pretend that the touch of his hand hasn’t sparked something more than medicinal. It isn’t long before she is seeking his expert attention more often – but how long can either of them pretend it isn’t more? 
A growing threat far greater than forbidden love
 
As Dr. Lennox's patients begin to go missing, his colleague, Dr. Knox, draws crowds in the hundreds to his dissection classes. Soon the ghostly crowd in the Lennox household expands to include the prostitutes that had served as Dr. Lennox's volunteer subjects. Liv begins to suspect that these missing women have met an ill fate, but can she convince Dr. Lennox in time to stop the darkness spreading through Edinburgh’s streets, or will she be the next one to find herself on Dr. Knox's slab?

Find all of Michaela’s titles
here

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BONUS MATERIAL

Please enjoy the first two chapters of WRITING MR RIGHT.

CHAPTER ONE

“Has she been awake at all?”

The nurse, Carolina, glanced over her shoulder as she checked Nana’s pulse. Carolina’s skin was dark and warm, and seemed to glow from within, all the more so when she smiled. “She ate breakfast this morning without any help. We’re having a good day.”

With that, the nurse slipped out of the room and Georgia pulled her chair up to sit beside her Grandmother’s bed. She settled there, clutching this precious thing in her arms – her book. It wasn’t done. It wasn’t close to done, but it was being written. Finally, she was writing.

“Hello, my beautiful girl.”

Georgia startled, looking up into the sleepy eyes of her grandmother, Minnie. The plastic tube was tucked up under her nose, and her gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail beneath her. She was wrapped in her favorite sweater, white and soft around her shoulders.

Nana slumped her arm off the side of the bed to hold Georgia’s hand. “Have you come to read to me like I asked?”

Georgia took her hand, squeezing it, feeling the knots of each knuckle. “I have.”

Nana smiled and settled into her pillows. Georgia set the pages in her lap and began to read.

I was floating there in the dark, staring up at the stars. The water was too cold, and I knew it. I floated in silent acceptance – those stars would be the last thing I would ever see.

I startled, nearly swallowing the sea as a hard object bumped into my shoulder. I flipped over in the dark water, my arms and legs slamming into the rough surface – rocks. Rocks. I’d reached land.

I scrambled for purchase. Each rock was covered in the slime of seaweed, but beneath that, barnacles and jagged shards of shell cutting into my hands and feet. A wave crested, carrying me further up the rocks, but it soon receded, pulling me along with it.

What a crime this was of Mother Nature to bring me within reach of salvation, then dance me away from it, too weak with cold to pull from my partner. I curled my fingers into the weeds, feeling them pull free from the rocks as another wave pulled me towards the sea. I roared in grief, realizing I would drown just inches from dry land.

“Need a hand, lass?”

I startled, searching in the dark for the source of the voice. I met his gaze, and sighed with relief as my green eyed salvation took my hand and pulled me ashore.

“Oh, I like him. Green eyed salvation.”

Nana was smiling, eyes still closed, listening along to every word. Georgia read to her for an hour, glancing up to see if she was still awake, still listening. Her voice began to grow tight with use, but Georgia continued reading as she’d promised. Finally, she reached the first steamy scene, and she stopped, skimming along the pages to find the next PG13 section.

“Why’d you stop?”

Nana was awake.

Georgia shook her head. “It gets kinda steamy there, so I’m jumping -”

“You read those damn pages, girl. I’m not long for this world. Give an old woman something to smile about.”

Georgia chuckled, frowning. “You might like steamy scenes, but I’m not too keen on reading them to you. Especially when I wrote them.”

This was no bodice ripper scene with euphemisms and poetry. Georgia went all in with her love scenes – all in.

“Do as you’re told, you willful thing,” Nana said, eyes closed still despite her stern expression.

Georgia took a deep breath and continued reading. Five minutes later, the scene was done, and Georgia looked up from the book to find Nana smiling and Carolina standing in the doorway, brows high, fanning herself in appreciation.

Georgia felt her face turning bright red.

“Sorry to interrupt, but your other granddaughter is here, sweetheart.”

Georgia tucked the manuscript into her bag and rose to greet her baby sister, Samantha. She was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed. It wasn’t the happiest time in either of the Kilduff sisters’ lives.

“You two girls - why do you seem so sad, the two of you?”

Georgia knew the answer to this for both of them. Georgia’s beloved Walter, the man she was sure the fates had chosen for her, was behaving strangely. He’d gone from doting and affectionate to almost completely absent upon hearing that her beloved grandmother was sick. Samantha was a recent college dropout, her depression having kicked back in after a switch in medication.

Then above everything else, Nana was sick.

“We’re fine, Nana. I’m fine. Just tired, is all,” Sam said, giving her as tight a hug as Nana’s fragile frame could take.