With Me in Seattle Bundle One

BOOK: With Me in Seattle Bundle One
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WITH ME IN SEATTLE

BUNDLE ONE

Kristen Proby

 

WITH ME IN SEATTLE

BUNDLE ONE

Kristen Proby

Copyright © 2015 by Kristen Proby

Come Away With Me

Under The Mistletoe With Me

Fight With Me

Play With Me

Rock With Me

Bonus Material

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

 

ISBN: 978-1-63350-011-2

 

Table of Contents

Come Away With Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

Natalie’s Epilogue

With Me In Seattle Mother’s Day

Under the Mistletoe With Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Fight With Me

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Nate’s Prologue

Play With Me

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

A Very Montgomery Christmas

Rock With Me

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Home Sweet Home

Other Books By Kristen Proby

 

Come Away With Me

Book One in the With Me In Seattle Series

By

Kristen Proby

 

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mom, Gail Holien. Thank you for giving me the love of reading a good love story and for being the best woman I know. I love you, Mom.

 

COME AWAY WITH ME – Book One in the With Me In Seattle Series

Kristen Proby

Copyright © November 2012 by Kristen Proby

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

The following story contains mature themes, profanity, and explicit sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

 

Cover image used under license from Shutterstock.com

Cover Design by Renae Porter

 

Chapter One

The light this morning is perfect.  I hold my Canon to my face and press the shutter. 
Click.
  The Puget Sound is covered in color. Pinks, yellows, blues. And for once the wind is almost still.  Waves gently lap against the concrete barrier at my feet, and I’m lost in the beauty before me.

Click.

I turn to my left and see a young couple walking along the sidewalk.  Seattle’s Alki Beach is pretty much deserted, aside from a few die-hards, or early morning insomniacs, like me.  The young couple are walking away from me, hand in hand, smiling at each other, and I point my lens at them and
click
.  I zoom in on their sneaker-clad feet and locked hands and shoot some more, my photographer’s eye appreciating their intimate moment on the beach.

I inhale the salty air and stare out at the sound once again as a red-sailed boat gently glides out on the water. The early morning sunshine is just barely beginning to sparkle around it, and I raise my camera again to capture the moment.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I twirl at the sound of the angry voice and gaze into blue eyes that reflect the bright morning water. They are surrounded by a very, very pissed-off face.

Not merely angry.  Livid.

“Excuse me?” I squeak, finding my voice.

“Why can’t you all just leave me the fuck alone?”  The handsome—really handsome—stranger in front of me is shaking in rage, and I instinctively step back, frowning and beginning to get pissed right back at him. 
What the fuck are you doing
?

“I wasn’t bothering you,” I respond, happy that my voice is stronger with my anger, and retreat back another step.  Clearly, Mr. Beautiful Blue Eyes and Sexy Greek God Face is a loony tune.  Unfortunately, he follows my backward motion, and I feel the panic start to take hold in my gut.

“I have had it with you following me.  Do you think I don’t notice?  Give me the camera.”  He extends a long-fingered hand, and my mouth drops open.  I pull my camera into my chest and wrap my arms around it protectively.

“No.” My voice is amazingly calm, and I want to look around for a means of escape, but I can’t stop looking into his angry, sea-colored eyes.

He swallows and narrows his eyes, breathing hard.

“Give me the fucking camera, and I won’t press charges for harassment.  I just want the photos.”  He’s lowered his voice, but it’s no less menacing. 

“You can’t have my photos!”  Who the hell is this guy?  I turn to run, and he grabs my arm, whipping me around to face him once again, grabbing for my camera.  I start to scream, not believing that I’m being mugged practically outside my front door. Then he lets go of me and braces his hands on his knees, bending at the waist, shaking his head, and I notice that his hands are shaking. 

Holy hell.

I take another step back, ready to run, but with his head still down, he holds up his hand and says, “Wait.”

I should run.  Fast.  Call the police and have this whack-job arrested for assault, but I don’t move.  My breathing starts to calm, and my panic recedes, and for some reason, I don’t think he’s going to harm me.

Yeah, I’m sure the Green River Killer’s victims didn’t think he’d harm them either.

“Uh, are you okay?”  My voice is breathy, and I realize I’m still clutching my camera to my chest almost painfully. I relax my hands and start to lower them when his head snaps back up.

“Do not take my fucking picture.”  His voice is low and measured, controlled, but he’s still shaking and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

“Okay, okay.  I’m not going to.  I’m putting the lens cap back on.”  I do as I say, not taking my eyes from his face, and he watches my hands carefully.

Geez.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, and I get a good look at the rest of him.  Wow.  Beautiful face, chiseled, stubbled jaw and those deep, clear blue eyes.  He’s got messy, golden-blond hair.  He’s tall, much taller than my five-foot-six, lean and broad-shouldered.  He’s wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt, and both hug that lean body in all the right places.

Damn.  He’d look fantastic naked. Ironically, I’d love to get him in front of my camera.

He looks me in the eye again, and he looks vaguely familiar. I feel like I should know him from somewhere, but the fleeting recognition is gone when he speaks.

“I’m going to need you to give me the camera, please.”

Is he serious?  He’s still going to mug me?

I let out a short laugh and finally break eye contact, looking up to the now blue sky and shake my head.  I close my eyes then look back over to him, and he’s staring at me intently.

I find myself smiling as I say, “You are so not getting this camera.”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes again.  Muscles low in my belly clench at his sexy stare, and I silently castigate myself.  No getting turned on by your sexy early morning mugger!

“You are not getting this camera.  Who the hell do you think you are?”  Now my voice is rising, and I pat myself on the back.

“You know who I am.”

His response throws me, and I narrow my eyes, staring back at him again, and get the strange feeling once more that I should know him, but I shake my head in frustration.

“No, I don’t.”

He raises an eyebrow, puts his hands on his lean hips, and he smiles, showing off a perfect line of teeth.  The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, honey, let’s not play this game.  Either give me that camera, or delete the photos, and we can get on our way.”

Why does he want my photos? Suddenly it occurs to me that he must think I’ve been taking pictures of him.

“I don’t have any photos of you on here,
honey
,” I reply.

His eyes narrow again, and his smile slips away.  He doesn’t believe me.

I take a step toward him.  I stare deeply into his widening blue gaze and speak very clearly. “I. Don’t. Have. Any. Photos. Of. You. On. My. Camera.  I’m not a portrait photographer.”  I feel my cheeks flush, and I look down for a moment. 

“What were you taking photos of?”  His voice is level now, and he looks confused.

“The water, the boats.” I gesture out toward the sound.

“I saw you point your camera toward me when I was sitting on that bench.”  He points to the bench behind me. It’s near where I shot the photos of the couple holding hands.  I pull my camera in front of me again. He tenses up, but I ignore him, turn on the camera and start flipping through my images until I find the ones he’s afraid are of him.  I walk over to him and stand next to him, my arm almost touching his, and I feel the heat from his sexy body.  I make myself ignore it.

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