SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories) (112 page)

I put my hand on his and put my head back against his chest. I could hear his heart beating and I knew that just from being in his arms that I would never want to be anyplace else.

“I hope you mean that, Avery and that you’re not just saying that to make me happy. I would never want to put you in a position that you would feel uncomfortable. I know that a lot of guys would not accept the fact that I was pregnant with a child that wasn’t theirs. I knew that there was a reason why I fell in love with you. “You’re not only kind and compassionate, but you have a way of looking at things that is different from anybody else. It’s your willingness to accept me for who I am and a willingness to accept this baby that makes me fall in love with you all over again.” He put his hand further down, until he was putting it on my belly.

“Hope, you have a life inside of you and that is not something that I take lightly. Your obligation is to him or her and I will do everything I can to protect it and raise it with the kind of values that I grew up on. You and I will be his parents, but he will always know that his father loved him, even though he didn’t get a chance to meet him or her.”

“Avery, I don’t know Y, but I believe it’s a girl.” He hugged me and he helped me back on the horse. We were on our way home to be a real family. “She really doesn’t know how lucky she is.”

“What you mean by that, Hope?”

“I mean, he has a devoted mother and two fathers. You’re going to raise her with me and Hank will be looking down from heaven with a smile on his face. I know that he’s watching and he couldn’t be happier for the both of us. We found you, or maybe you found us. It really doesn’t matter how we found each other.”

We soon married and a few months after that my baby girl was born. I could see Hank’s eyes looking back at me. I knew that I would always carry a piece of him and now his legacy would live on through another.

I was worried that Avery may not be a man of his word, but I found that he was the best father that I could ever ask for. I saw him holding that baby girl and the love that I saw in his eyes could only come from the bond of father and daughter.

“Avery, I want to name her Henrietta.” He understood the meaning behind it and he knew that I was just giving Hank his rightful place in her life. He smiled and nodded. He held my hand and I knew that my family was complete.

THE END

The Billionaire’s Mail Order Bride

Chapter 1

Darren Crowley was a racist, a sexist, a homophobe and a generally pompous and evil human being!

              Or at least that’s what they all said, and once something is stated in the media it’s twice as hard to get it removed from the record.  How does one un-report things?  How does one change the stubborn mind of public opinion?  Nobody cared about the fact that the media lied about Darren and his wealthy family.  All that mattered was that he was rich, full of himself, and that his family had money.  That was reason to hate him enough.

              And yeah, the fact that Darren always put his foot in his mouth when granting interviews didn’t help matters.  He was the definitive billionaire playboy type, in his late thirties but going on twenty-one in terms of responsibility.  With dark hair and a thick smile, he earned the label of rugged and handsome, even if he was as white as vanilla ice cream. 

He had only to step in mud to cause a citywide scandal.  Whenever he smiled they said he was faking for the camera.  Whenever he frowned or glared they said he was hiding secrets.  Maybe his best bet was to wear a bag over his head out in public.

              Darren kept thinking that the interview earlier that day didn’t go too well.  The reporter seemed to have an axe to grind.  She had that strange wide-eyed dagger smile in her face that he used to see coming from mother whenever she was trying to catch him in a lie.

              “So when you criticized the Black Lives Matter movement last week on your website, you were actually criticizing the entire black youth culture, correct?”

              “No,” he said nervously.  “I never said that.  All I said was that white lives matter too.”

              “Right, but you understand why the community perceives that as racist?”

              “No, I mean yes.  Well…it’s like this.  I believe in equality.”

“Uh huh?”

“And…I think that all lives matter.  And I think that all lives matter, blacks, whites, mixed…”

“Right…”

“I am a huge supporter of animal rights too.  And I think that in a perfect world we’d all be equal and treated with respect.”

“Okay,” she said with a smile.  “So you’re basically saying that black lives are on par with animal life?”

“Well…that’s not exactly what I…what I meant to say was…”

“All I’m asking, Mister Crowley, is if the rumors are true.  That you’re racist.”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Even though on your Twitter account…”

“That was my ex-secretary.  She runs the Twitter account for me.  It wasn’t even aware what was being said.”

“So you’re denying the allegations.”

“I’m not in denial.  I’m just saying I’m not a racist.  Everything about me has been misconstrued.”

“So when you held a yacht party last year, did you or did you not say that no black people were allowed on your boat?”

“No, that’s not what I said.  I barred one man who used to do contract work for me from coming to the party and he happened to be black.”

“And so then you said all black people were banned from your boat, meaning it as a joke.”

“No, that’s not true.  Someone blurted out, ‘Hey why don’t more black people ride boats?’  And then someone else said answered “Because they’re not falling for that again.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes.  I didn’t say it.  Because I thought it was in bad taste.”

“And the person who heard you say it…”

“They’re making things up.  It was an entire boat full of staff workers.  It was a mob and people were heckling, people were drinking and laughing.  And you know that’s just the way the media works.  They want a story.  If you’re rich and successful, suddenly, there has to be a big moral flaw about you.  Nobody can be rich
and
a decent human being.  It’s either one or the other.  You know that.”

“Why would I know that, sir?  Are you saying I must be poor and a decent human being because I’m black?”  The woman said, tilting her head.

“No, no,” he said nervously.  “Look…uh…can we edit this part out of the interview?”

“Sure, no problem,” she said with a smile.

By the time, Darren saw himself on television, it was a public relations nightmare.  The young and ambitious reporter had edited the piece to make it look like Darren was making racist statements, and hiding all of his uninteresting defenses and explanations.  Great, that meant another long weekends of answering irate phone calls, coming from sponsors, politicians, watch dog groups and angry family members. 

He tried to put it out of his mind. 
Who cares
, he said, as he relaxed in his million dollar loft in New York, doing the absolute worst thing a rich white man could do.  Watching reruns of
Sanford and Son
while drinking spiked Kool-Aid.  All it took to tune the world out would be four mixes, a big bag of ice and equal measures of tequila, whiskey and rum.  Getting piss drunk out in public and laughing at stupid jokes.  Man, what he could do back in the day before anyone knew his name. 

Now they were all watching him like a hawk, trying to say he was a Trump supporter and that he was the shame of his family.  He wondered for a moment what it would be like to vanish and to live a normal life.  Living on an island somewhere, with millions in gold, of course.  But not having to carry the weight of the Crowley name everywhere he went. 

He laughed his ass off watching his favorite show while drinking alone.  Sure, he could call a half dozen hookers over and make this night feel like a real success.  But the idea just didn’t seem appealing tonight.  Somehow, all of these expensive things didn’t glow the way they advertised.  They only seemed to remind him of how much fun yacht parties were—not because they were ridiculously over priced but because of the people who made life so fun, so loud and inviting.

He snorted at the last few moments of the show before dozing off.

***

Chapter 2

Darren had bizarre dreams, all about Fred Sanford, TV reporters, Donald Trump and the Kool-Aid Man—the one that screamed “Oh Yeah!” as he burst through walls, always at the perfect moment.  But when he woke up he had a particularly bulbous and “red” face glaring back at him.

The tyrannous Doc Crowley, the patriarch of the family.  The oil baron turned computer technology investor that seemed to have the whole world by the balls.  And whenever dad showed up he always had something heinous and unkind to say.

“So.  You thought it
funny
to appear on national television and turn our family name into a laughing stock.”  Doc Crowley frowned hard, giving his already weathered face another dozen wrinkles.

“What?”

“The press is having a field day with your interview.  Seriously, Darren?  Making an Amistad joke in public?  You know the media has no tolerance for that.” 

“I didn’t say it.  I denied saying it.  She twisted the story around.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.  “When reporters ask you to clarify something you deny, deny, deny.  How many times have I told you that?”

Darren shook his head.  “So what, are they asking for an apology?”

“You fool.  They’re trying to boycott you.  Our stock has already plummeted because of your shenanigans.  And I warned you it doesn’t help that you’re still single and screwing everything that returns your phone call.”

“Damn,” Darren said, shaking his head and trying to calm his nerves and his hangover.

“If things get any worse, I’m going to have to cut you off from the family name.”

“What?”

“You’ll still have your shares.  But I’d be foolish to let you remain vice president, wouldn’t I?”

“Shit,” he said, getting up and pacing around the room, finally feeling the seriousness of the situation.  “Okay…okay…how do I make this right?”

He eyed his father then grabbed his head in angst, trying to come up with a solution.  “How about I apologize?  I hold a press conference and…”

“No,” Doc said firmly.  “You’re already a public relations nightmare.  For the love of god, stop talking to reporters.”

“Fine, fine.  I’ll do anything I have to do.  I know I can make this right.”

“Well…there is one thing you can do.”

Uh oh. 
Darren took a gulp.  Whenever dad said that, usually some ridiculous and off the wall favor followed.  One that the other person could never afford to refuse.  HE knew he was screwed.  Dad wasn’t being especially hard on him.  Everything the media said about Darren was the result of years of thoughtless statements and a “who-cares” attitude about offending people.  It was all finally catching up to him.  One more scandal and the world would stop supporting Darren Crowley.

“Fine.  What is it?”

“What if…and this is just a scenario, mind you…what if you were to turn the rumors upside down and actually…”

“Oh wow, you’re right!” Darren interrupted.  “I could start dating a black woman.  That will put the rumors to rest for good.”

“Actually, I was thinking something a little more serious.  How about you announce an engagement?  You find some B-grade actress, date for a while, announce an engagement and then dump her a few months later.  A lot of men do it.”

“That’s smart,” he said, excited about the chance to vindicate himself—and for once, doing something he loved.  Charming the pants off of women!  “I can see this working.”

“Yeah.  And then you can make the world think you actually like black people.”

“But…I do, dad.  I’m not actually a racist, you know.”

“Sure, son.  Say it just like that.”

Darren tightened his brow, annoyed at the Godfather of the Crowley fortune.  His dad was a faker for sure.  But he would be damned if the world was going to besmirch his name.  Darren wanted badly to make a name for himself and pick up the reins of the family name, carrying it into a new generation of political correctness.

This was the first step in the right direction, a new change…maybe even a brand new chapter in life.  It all sounded great, like an idea that was bound to work and make the new year a success. 

Then Darren made the mistake of drinking too much…

***

Chapter 3

He woke up in a stupor trying to remember what crazy things he did last night, reckless and hammered as always.  He remembered talking to his father.  He remembered looking for a woman to date, just as they had talked about.