by Piper Rayne
Let’s talk Victoria, since Manic Monday is her book. You’ll have to wait for Chelsea until Afternoon Delight. Sorry, but we can’t give you all the intel.
When Victoria was written in The Manny originally, you were given a short glimpse of her character as Jagger’s assistant. We didn’t know then that she would get her own book. The fact that she had a kid was just kind of thrown in there when Payne spilled his drink on her desk. Actually, the fact she was hiding having a kid was supposed to say more about Jagger than it was about Victoria.
By Jagger’s book, Chore Play, we thought Victoria might get her own book at some point. Her and Jagger sparring was just so fun to write. I think we didn’t want to say good-bye. We added an ex-husband and the decided the kid would be a seven-year-old daughter. All we had to do was get her to relocate from L.A. to Chicago. And that’s when we decided that she’d only do that if it were to help out someone she loved dearly.
Some of you are probably saying, yeah, yeah, we like Victoria, but give us the skinny on Reed.
Reed sure is dreamy, right? In our plotting, we knew we wanted the guys in Charity Case to be different than others we’ve written. We wanted to do another series with only the heroines POV (sorry dual POV lovers, but we’ll be writing some extra scenes in Reed’s POV as bonus material). We agreed he needed to be a good guy—not a player or a bad boy. Someone who would pull Victoria out of her self-imposed dating hibernation and make her realize how beautiful and strong she is.
Fun fact on how fast our stories can change. Reed was just going to be an attorney, but he was never going to be their best man until we were writing the blurb and realized what’s the conflict again? Since we’d never done an ex best friend storyline before it was a winner.
That’s about all the 411 on Manic Monday.
Our usual dream team plus a few new additions who need a round of applause.
Letitia from RBA Designs for the amazing covers. From the first Manic Monday she sent, we were in love. This series is actually Piper’s favorite of all of ours. So far anyway! ;)
Ellie from Love N Books for line editing. Thank you for dealing with our usual question, “we’ll have it next week, how fast can you turn it around?”
Shawna from Behind the Writer for her eagle eye proofreading skills and making sure everything flows.
Sarah Ferguson and Social Butterfly PR for their organization, patience and help on not only Charity Case Series but on a daily basis.
All the bloggers who carve out time to read and review our books. For the teasers you make, the word you spread, the messages you sent. It only spurs our excitement for the next book.
Our first readers of a really shitty, unedited copy—Heather, Angela and newbie, Tina.
This is the first time we reached out to some of our readers for help. Neither one us knew much about Multiple Sclerosis and we didn’t want to write something we knew nothing about. Thank you to Tina Morgan, Melissa Godwin Lane, Anna Fay and Heather Fueger. We are sorry that this disease has touched your life in either yourself being diagnosed or a close friend or family member. Your information was invaluable. Though it wasn’t the basis of the story itself, we did want to make sure we portrayed Victoria’s mother accurately.
All our early ARC readers, first for wanting to read our stuff early and for posting their reviews.
And of course, all our unicorns. <3 Your excitement and enthusiasm for our characters keep our inspiration on overdrive. We are thankful each day to have every one of you Unicorns in our corner.
Next up is Chelsea! It’s no surprise that according to the poll in our Unicorn Facebook group that Lennon and Jasper have to make an appearance. Now to weave that in…huh? We cannot wait for you to get Chelsea’s book because Dean might be the complete opposite of Reed except for the fact, he’s going to win her over whether she believes him or not.
xo,
Piper & Rayne
BTW – There was just something about Pete. Yeah, he wasn’t the best husband the first time around, but we think there’s something endearing about him. Should we straighten him out and make him deserving of his own book? We kinda want to write one…
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2018 by Piper Rayne
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover design: RBA Designs
Line Editor: Gray Ink Editing
Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer
The perfect man for me is the one who broke my heart. #thanksbutnothanks
Once bitten.
Twice shy.
Yeah, I wish.
I'm on a mission to find myself a nice, solid, respectable man. The only problem is nice, solid, and respectable comes in a meh package and is B-O-R-I-N-G as hell.
It's been established. I have one type. Bad Boy. I tried the other flavors, I really did. But there's nothing like the allure of a man who takes what he wants without apology.
As if my love life isn't dramatic enough, Dean Bennett walks into my life again thinking he's going to win me back with his charm and charisma. He might come in a different package, but under that expensive suit he's still the same cocky, arrogant, pompous prick who only cares about numero uno.
I'm not that naïve young girl anymore so I have to ignore the fact that the way he looks at me practically sets my panties on fire.
Everyone deserves a second chance to right a wrong. The problem? He's not just an ex-boyfriend…
He's my ex-husband.
Chapter One
“Addison and Clark.” I glance up from my phone to try and give my taxi driver the directions through the rearview mirror. He nods and says something that I can’t hear because he’s talking into his Bluetooth instead of to me.
I shrug and continue to hammer out the message with my thumbs.
Me: I’m going to be about ten minutes late.
Three dots appear below my message and I envision my date sitting at the bar waiting for my arrival.
Glen: K.
Me: Do you like the bar?
The three dots appear and then disappear. I keep the phone poised in my hands for a few minutes before giving up on a response and dropping the phone in my lap.
A manila folder rests under my purse on the backseat of the taxi that I need to drop off before I can begin my weekend. I glance out the window at everyone rushing down the streets to get to their Friday night plans. That should’ve been me.
When Glen reached out through Coffee Meets Bagel, I was skeptical. CMB is known to attract guys who are looking for commitment. His profile picture was a gym selfie and though it might have stirred up the lady parts, I’m working on having my brain override my vajayjay’s radar these days. My brain said this guy smells like trouble—especially after the beach guy’s picture who ended up being a catfish.
After I didn’t respond to his message right away, another message came through. He said he knows the picture is lame, but his friends convinced him it was the way to go. I asked if the picture was him and he told me if I showed up on the date, I’d find out it was in fact him. He was playful and funny, and he hooked me. And now I’d volunteered to deliver this damn package and ruin what could very well be the story we tell our potential grandchildren with, first I had to drop off papers at a tax attorney’s office for my boss.
The taxi stops, and the driver says nothing, so I hand over the cash and rush out of the car back onto the streets of Chicago.
“This tax attorney is doing pro bono work for us?” I mumble to myself staring up at the high-rise building.
Walking through the revolving door, I’m greeted by a security desk before I can access the elevators. Shit. I should message Glen again to say I’m going to be even later than I expected.
He taps a few keys. “I think they’re closed already.” His face is void of any emotion.
“Can you tell me if there’s a…” my eyes glance to the folder again. “Mr. Bennett?” The last name causes my stomach to gurgle.
“Let me call up.” He presses some buttons on the phone, listens for a second and then hangs up. “No one is answering.”
I lean over the counter, splashing on my please eat out of my hand smile. “It’s Friday. You want to go home. I want to go home. I promised my boss that I’d get these on the desk of Mr. Bennett.” I cough, bile rising up my throat with the mention of the name. Victoria is really going to have to take care of this in the future. “Can I please just go up to their floor and see if their door is unlocked?”
He shakes his head, giving me a look I’m way too familiar with, silently asking if I’m crazy.
“What can I do?” I ask. “Money? A date?” I look at his left hand. “No. Are you a fan of winter sports?” I’ll totally pull Skylar into this. “My cousin is a Winter Classics skier and her fiancé—” A large palm lands in front of my face.
“Give me your name.” His fingers position on the keyboard.
“Chelsea… Chelsea Walsh.”
He types my name in, and I smile when he pulls a visitor badge out.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I take it from his hand and put it over my head.
“If no one is up there, they have a drop box beside their door. You can leave your package there.”
I thank him again and walk steadily to the elevators, dodging people desperate to start their weekend.
I end up riding the elevator by myself to the thirty-third floor. The elevator doors ding open and I file out, my head swiveling right and then left. Spotting the door with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm, I head over to it to find a list of the names of all the associates and thankfully there’s Bennett second from the top.
Hold on Glen, I’m almost on my way.
My hand pulls on the frosted glass door and it must be my lucky day because it opens.
I step into the darkened reception area. Looking around, I find no one. Heading down a hallway, my eyes zero in on the names on the doors while peeking my head into vacant offices. Finally, after passing the conference room, I see the last name Bennett and peek my head inside to find it empty with the light on. Hopefully that means he’s in the bathroom or something.
I pull out my cell phone, seeing Glen has messaged me back, but instead of responding to his I shoot one off to my boss Hannah.
Me: Mr. Bennett isn’t here. Can I drop the envelope on his desk?
Hannah as usual, replies instantly.
Hannah: Sure. Just leave it somewhere he’ll see it first thing on Monday.
Me: Got it.
I drop my cell phone back into my purse and slowly walk across the room and place the envelope on the chair. As I straighten up, I notice a baseball sitting next to the keyboard like someone had been playing with it and just set it down.
My jaw drops and my gaze scatters across every surface, spinning around investigating each piece of art, photos, anything I can find to tell me this isn’t…
Then as though I hadn’t breathed the entire time I’ve been in this office, the smell of him hits my nostrils. The once familiar scent of the ocean breeze, his deodorant and fresh linen from his clothes. He never was a cologne guy.
Other than a picture of a dog on the table behind his desk, it’s filled with baseball memorabilia of the Cubs. A die-hard Cub’s fan certificate is framed and on display, so others know he didn’t jump on the bandwagon two years ago when they won the World Series. It’s proof that his family has borne the Cubbie fever for generations.
“Do you make it a habit of sneaking into people’s offices?” His voice is coy and flirtatious.
I squeeze my eyes shut then grip the edge of the desk before my knees give out. Shivers run up and down my spine.
Crazy train. All aboard!
“You can at least show your face,” he says, continuing his usual play. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“Unless I want you to.” I spin around, my knuckles white as they tighten on the edge of the desk.
Now it’s his jaw that slackens as he realizes his ex-wife is standing in the middle of his office.
Chapter Two
“Chelsea?” he asks, like he’s not sure it’s me. This isn’t a twenty-five-year reunion. It’s been five years. Five years since I’ve seen those deep chocolate eyes, the messy brown hair. He’s grown even more attractive over the years. More mature. Manlier, leaving that boy next door look behind with our divorce papers.
“Dean.” I’m able to cool my voice to make sure he doesn’t realize how affected I am by his presence.
His gaze flows up and down my body and I swallow past the lump in my throat and heat spreads like lava over my skin.
Thank God for those spin and yoga classes and grilled chicken and vegetables. Eat your heart out asshole. Check out what you missed out on.
“You look amazing.” One thing about Dean is that his eyes always tell his truth and it’s clear that his compliment is genuine.
“Wish I could say the same.” I cross my arms, finally finding my inner lioness.
He chuckles, rocking back on his heels and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, but his tie and vest are still in place along with a silver watch adorning his wrist. The sight of him in his gray suit stirs up the lady parts something fierce. Not that I’d ever let him know it.
“I was expecting a Victoria to do the drop-off.” He disregards my comment because that’s the problem with two people who know each other so well. He can tell my truth just as well as I can his, and he knows I’m full of shit.
“Sorry to disappoint. Paperwork is on your chair.”
I desperately want to flee this room, but he’s blocking the door and there’s no possible way I can get closer to him at this point. I might be able to roar like the lioness from afar, but I’ll crumble like an overzealous cub if either of us move.
“So, you’re working for Hannah Crowley?” He leans his shoulder on the doorframe, no intention of moving. Go figure, the man tormented me all through our relationship—just in a good way back then.
“Yes. I’m her marketing manager.”
“I like the idea of the foundation…giving girls empowerment, letting them know they have a voice.”
“Yes, it’s a wonderful thing she’s put together.” I pray I look more relaxed than I feel. My heart is pounding inside my chest like a college drumline.
“You like it?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.
He’s all cool and calm like he always was, while I sit here trying not to let my big girl image falter. He might be the only man on this planet who has the capacity to do that.
“I do.” I look around his office. “So, you’re a tax attorney?”
He chuckles again, his strong, broad shoulders rising and falling. “Crazy, right? After I recovered and finally got my shit together, went to law school.”
“You picked the most boring part of the legal system?” I raise an eyebrow.
A smile continues to tease his lips. “It’s more interesting than you think.”
“I should get going.” I step forward, not interested in partaking in a where-are-you-now conversation.
He glances to my left hand for a second and a full smile creeps up his lips. “How about dinner?”
I wrinkle my forehead. He’s still insane.
“I don’t think so.” I step away from the desk with the hopes he’ll step further into the room, so we can circle around one another until I’m at the door.
“Why not? Unless your wedding ring is being repaired, doesn’t look like you�
�re committed. Did I ruin you for all other men?” He laughs to show it’s a joke, but his comment only lights the fuse on my anger and resentment.
“Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean I’m not committed.”
Way to go, Chels. Lie.
“So, you have someone?” He stands straighter but never leaves the doorframe.
“Well...”
“I did ruin you.”
“No. You. Didn’t,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Relax, Ches. It’s a joke. Good to see you. I wanted to reach out a few times, but never knew how you’d take it.”
“How I would take it?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean you were the one who walked out on me.”
“Excuse me?” My inner bitch has come out to play. Forget this polite crap. Hannah will understand when I kick her tax attorney in the balls.
“If memory serves, I woke up one day to an empty bed.”
A cynical huff leaks out of me. “Glad to see a law degree didn’t change you. You’re still the arrogant jackass you’ve always been.”
“What am I missing?” he asks, and I swear my blood runs hot enough to boil a lobster.
Forget him, I’m going to shoulder check him on my way out.
I stomp toward the door.
“No worries, Mr. Bennett, Victoria Clarke will be your contact at RISE from this point on.” I bulldoze forward, thinking I can push right past him and into the freedom of the hallway.
He steps into the center of the doorframe, his broad shoulders and tall figure filling the empty space. I almost tip forward into his chest from the sudden stop.
“I’m kidding, Chels,” he whispers and there’s those damn chocolate eyes front and center and fixated on me again. “There’s not a day that goes by that you don’t cross my mind.”