The Best Day of My Life

by Lynda Throsby

  I watched over my daughter as she lay sick in hospital. I couldn’t let her feel the sickness any longer. Again, I had to intervene. I helped her sleep through it all. It was the least I could do because my babies had to live without a momma. I couldn’t let Theon lose her. I don’t think he would have survived that. They were my two allowed strikes at intervention, and to me, they were worthy.

  I’ve watched them all grow. I couldn’t be any prouder of them. I was happy Theon met Alana. She’s a lovely person, and they deserve each other. They deserve happiness. I have met with Gary and Caroline, who both watch over them, and now we all join together to be their guardians. The family has grown. I’m now a grandmother. Evelina has had twins herself: a boy and a girl. Thankfully, the birth was normal. I was on pins when her time approached. She is happily married to a lovely man, Joe, who adores her. He is a partner at the law firm she owns. They are a perfect match.

  Evander now runs our company, Toureve Development, and it’s gone global. He is due to be married soon, to one of the directors of a big gaming store.

  Bailee has a boyfriend, and she now runs her mum’s florist, only she has a chain of them across the USA. Her clientele includes movie stars, pop stars, hotel chains, and even royalty from different countries when they visit. Caro Petals is famous now.

  Bryan helps Evander run Toureve. He is a lovely man, but can’t seem to settle down with anyone. He travels all over the world with business, so I suppose that doesn’t help. I hope one day he will settle down with his own family.

  Theon and Alana travel a lot, and they still live in the same house we bought. They thought about moving, but with the family growing, they changed their mind. They are both so happy together. I’m so proud of Theon and the way his life turned out. I would never have wanted him to stay alone. I only wish happiness for him. I will see him again one day, and when I do that will be the best day of my afterlife.

  The End

  I really hope that you enjoyed this story. Reviews are lovely! Honestly, they are! And they also help other people to make an informed decision before buying this book.

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  Lynda Throsby Xx

  Also by Lynda Throsby

  Read on for a free sample of my

  debut novel Catfish.

  Catfish is a dark, gripping, romantic thriller.

  Catfish

  Online Dating Meanings

  Stashing – When you start seeing someone, but they keep you a secret and stash you away—usually because they are married or seeing other people. You are their secret.

  Ghosting – When you start seeing someone, and they just disappear and vanish without a trace. They don’t return your messages and even block you from social media and dating sites. This is so they don’t have to tell you they are breaking up with you verbally.

  Zombieing – If you have been ghosted the culprit may resurface back on the sites. This is usually a fair bit of time after they ghosted you. They try to make contact, only to probably ghost you again.

  Benching – This is before you discuss exclusivity, and they bench you like in a football game while they look for someone better. You are their backup option. They may come back to you if no one better comes along.

  Catch and release – Where someone persistently pursues you as they love the chase, but as soon as you agree to a date they release you, as you’re not a conquest any more.

  Breadcrumbing – This is where someone seems to be pursuing you, but really, they have no intention of being in a relationship with you. It could just be the chase they like, or it’s a game as they are already in a relationship. They message and chase, leaving you breadcrumbs with no outcome.

  Cushioning – When you’re dating, but they know it’s not going anywhere or will not end well so instead of cutting you loose they prepare you for the break up by chatting and flirting with others online to cushion the blow to you.

  Kittenfishing – Someone who has out-dated images of themselves and lies about their age, height, job, hair etc. If you were to meet you would know they were lying.

  Catfishing – The pinnacle of online dating deception. Where someone pretends to be someone else. They use fake images to lure you in and use false information to make them seem more interesting. This can be dangerous if you decide to meet up, although you would never know until you decided to go that far and by that time it could be too late for you.

  George

  IT HAS TAKEN me a long time to reel this one in and get her to finally agree to meet me for a date. It’s been too long now since my last catch, just over a year ago now. This one is going to suffer because i’ve waited for wait so long, I’ve missed out on others while I’ve been chasing her, and my need is growing more and more. It’s getting harder each day—both figuratively and literally. The things I’m going to do to this bitch now… I can’t wait, and boy will she regret making me. I am a very impatient man.

  The minute I laid eyes on her profile picture while scanning the hordes of whores for my next catch, I knew I had to have her. It was the long mousey brown hair and the hazel eyes, although the others had looked similar, this whore was the spitting image of my fucking bitch of a mother.

  My brow is wet from sweat, and I’m shaking, knowing I will finally have her tomorrow. I’m so fucking hard right now just looking at her picture. God help me when I get my hands on her. She will regret ever responding to my messages and playing with me, stringing me along. Why the fuck I get hard for these whores that look like my mother is a mystery to me. They should repulse me, but I can’t help myself, and it makes me hate myself even more. I feel sick to the stomach. Now I need to take care of my fucking cock. That bitch, Katherine has done this to me yet again.

  Katherine

  WHAT HAVE I done? I said I wouldn’t date for a long time, so why have I just agreed to meet this Lewis guy. Why am I doing this? Why do I put myself through this? It’s not like I need someone. I have my own business, right here in the city, which takes up most of my time. But still… it’s lonely, and his pictures are hot. I mean, those abs and biceps and the tattoos… Oh, god, they make me drool. But it’s the bright, mesmerising, light brown eyes with long eyelashes and black curly short hair that made me succumb. He is just so pretty in a masculine way. I still think this is too good to be true. Why would someone that looks like him be on a dating site? Surely, he can get any woman he wants.

  I’ve had such bad experiences with men in my life, going back to my family. I had no father to speak of. He left mum, my brother Brad, and me when I was two, so I never knew him. Brad is three years older than me, and although he did look out for me in school and was very protective as most big brothers are, he’s an arsehole.

  He has a wife now, Cindy, and he is mean to her like he used to be mean to me. Not the hitting, but he does have some serious anger issues, and I’m sure it stems from him being so young when our dad left.

  Brad used to get angry a lot and hit me, and if I ventured into his room, all hell broke loose. He even broke my arm one time when I was eleven. He had a girl in his room; mum was at work as usual. He was on top of her, grunting away, and all I saw was his arse, but he jumped off that bed so quickly, grabbed me and threw me hard on the floor of the landing that my arm snapped. He was sorry, of course, and persuaded me to tell mum I’d fallen. That was just one of the times in my childhood that I ended up at the hospital, being told how clumsy I was.

  Mum worked two jobs. She was the only one bringing money in for the three of us. She was a room cleaner in a hotel in London during the day, starting at 6.30 a.m., she finished that job at 3 p.m. just in time for me to get home from school and see her for half an hour before she had to work the evening shift from 5 p.m. to midnight down at the local petrol station.

  She trusted Brad to look after me, being my big older brother, but i
t was best I stayed away from him as much as possible, or I ended up with bruises. I never told mum he did that to me. She had enough to worry about.

  So yeah, men! Dad left—arsehole, and Brad hit me—another arsehole.

  THERE WAS MY first boyfriend at fourteen. Luke Jones. At first, he was really nice and made me feel special, but it became clear that was only because of what he wanted from me.

  We were going steady for about three months and we’d only ever kissed, that was a trauma in itself the first time. I had no experience, and when he stuck his tongue in my mouth and tried to push it down my throat, I almost puked in his mouth, much to his dismay. Having never had a boyfriend before; I didn’t want to go any further than kissing, although he did try to put his hand under my skirt or up my top a few times.

  He even tried to put my hand on his erection over his trousers, but I was scared and naive, so in the end, he got fed up and called me a cock-tease because I wouldn’t have sex with him or let him feel my boobs.

  He told all the boys in school not to waste their time with me because they would get nowhere, and he told everyone who would listen that I was a frigid bitch. The girls in school picked on me anyway. I thought it was because I was quiet and kept to myself, but both Brad and Luke told me they were all jealous of me because I was pretty, and I had a good figure for my age, that the other girls felt threatened by me. When Luke dumped me, it just got worse with the mean girls. They had more ammunition to throw at me just because I wasn’t a slut like them.

  I REALLY THINK I should cancel on Lewis. It’s just he is so sweet in our messages, saying how beautiful I am and asking if I’ve ever considered modelling. He wants to meet to talk and get to know me. Nothing more, he said he has no expectations as he respects me. I mean who does that these days? It’s usually ‘wham bam thank you, ma’am’.

  I just can’t see someone like him wanting to get to know someone like me. I don’t think I’m ugly. I’m curvy in all the right places and in some not-so-right places, but I’m not a size zero by any means. I’m more a comfortable fourteen to sixteen in clothes.

  I’m successful in my business, and it takes up most of my time, I’ve worked hard to get it where it is today. Porter Properties is one of the top property investor/developers in the city, and I’m proud of that. It’s so hard being a woman at the top in a man’s world, but I have this knack of knowing a good deal when I see one. I own several commercial buildings and apartment blocks.

  I have a penthouse apartment in Knightsbridge, not far from my office, which I use during the week, and at the weekends I head to my five-bedroomed house in a lovely area of Chelmsford. I bought a big house because I was hoping mum would move in with me and quit her jobs, but it wasn’t meant to be. It’s very quiet where I live. I love the peace and tranquillity, and I know mum would have loved it too.

  George

  JUST ONE MORE night and I will have that bitch. My thirteenth catch. I may prolong it. Make her suffer like that bitch has made me suffer for weeks. I’ve checked her out on social media, and from what I can tell, she doesn’t socialise much. There are some work references and a few pictures with work colleagues, that’s it. After digging, I found she owns the company, but other than that, there is not much about family or friends. I just hope, as I suspect, she lives alone. They nearly always do or why would they be looking for love on these shitty dating sites?

  In our messages on the dating site: LookingforLove.com, she never gave much away about herself. She was always quite vague and guarded, and I suspect she’s had bad experiences with tossers who go on these dating sites purely to get free sex with no intentions of dating. I can’t blame the wankers really. Why get tied down with some whore permanently when you can have pussy on tap? Looking for love, what a load of bollocks. I know why I go on the dating sites. It’s to rid the world of anyone who looks like my useless mother. They don’t belong here—don’t deserve to live, just like she didn’t. She used to say she loved me, yeah right, like fuck she did. What mother would let her waste of a husband do the things he did to me, do nothing about it, even joining in herself? Sick fuckers—both of them were.

  Who needs love and all that crap when you can just take what you want and then do away with them? Love: what is it anyway? Is it what my father showed me when he used to punch and burn me while stubbing out his cigarettes on me when he couldn’t be bothered getting off his lazy fat arse to find an ashtray?

  He would make me sit in the room with him while he jerked off to his porn. I would have to sit on the floor next to his chair and get him anything he needed. I was his personal slave. ‘Boy get me a beer.’ ‘Boy get me something to eat.’ ‘Boy get me my playboy magazine.’ ‘Boy, light me a cigarette.’ The only thing I didn’t do was shit and piss for him. I had to have tissues ready for him jerking off, or it would be my hands used to clean him up. He even made me suck him clean sometimes, telling me to lick every drop or he would beat me. He used to make me lift my t-shirt up, if I was wearing one that is, so he could pinch and twist my body when he was about to shoot his load. If I cried from the pain, he would kick me so hard that I would fall over and end up bruised, knocked out, or with broken bones. Once, he kicked me so hard, I sailed across the room, knocking the T.V. over. He flew out of his chair to make sure I hadn’t broken it. I had never seen him move so fast, and for that, I got punched in the stomach and kidneys, a black eye and bloody lip. He never once looked or asked me if I was okay. Never. He didn’t care what he did to me.

  I never went to school. No one knew I existed. No one ever came to our house, and I was never allowed to leave except on the rare occasion I was allowed out to help mum with shopping when he‘d severely beaten her and she couldn’t move properly. When the man at the shop asked who I was, she just said I was a visiting nephew. I didn’t know if we had any other family or not.

  My mother used to work all day at a café in town to keep the money coming in for my dad’s booze. God forbid if there was no beer or whiskey in the house for him, then he would lay into her with his fists—always on her body, never visible because she needed to go back to work. He couldn’t have her staying off work and not bringing in the money. I would go days without food, and when they finally gave me something, it was only something basic like rice or porridge oats. Even though she sometimes brought leftovers from the café, I never got any. He got everything, and she was just as bad. She let him treat me like shit.

  He wanted to watch me with my mother. I didn’t know that what he had us doing was wrong. I had no idea. I thought all kids did it with their parents. He used to jerk off, watching me go down on my mother or with my cock in her mouth. He liked to join in sometimes and make her suck me while he ploughed into her backside. The bastard was sick. I know that now. I hated them both so much and the older I got, the worse it got. Being a teenager was a nightmare, but I was plotting in my head. Plotting to rid the world of the vile pair. I was plotting to fight back.

  Available on kindle

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  Also on Kindle Unlimited - KU

  Lynda lives in Cheshire in the UK with her husband Peter and cat Bailey also with two grown up daughters and an 11-year-old granddaughter.

  She runs a successful financial business with her husband. As a young teenager Lynda used to read horror books with a love for everything Stephen King and James Herbert. She has always wanted to write and even wrote horror stories at age 13.

  A little later she started reading Jackie Collins and Jilly Cooper and has always had a love of books. This then exploded with Twilight and Fifty Shades as it did with most people, oh, and the introduction of E-Readers.

  In her spare time, she has a season ticket for Manchester City Football Club and goes to all the home games. Loves going to concerts and the theatre. She goes to the cinema at least once a week. Then when the weather is nice you can see her gliding down the road on h
er Harley Davidson 1200T motorbike. Travelling is also high on the agenda and her dream is to visit every state in the USA.

  I wouldn’t have done this without the help and support I got from a few people.

  First my Husband who made time for me to write by running our business and the continued support he gives me, encouraging me to carry on.

  My sister Jackie and friends who read the book and gave me feedback.

  My Editor Claire Allmendinger for guiding me through and being patient with me, yet again.

  Sybil Wilson from Pop Kitty for the amazing cover as always.

  Stuart Reardon, Emma Hayes & Cathy Reardon for the cover pictures.

  The adorable Marlie Brown & Sienna Brown for braving the cold, being in the pictures for my book.

  Cassy Roop from Pink Ink Designs for the fantastic formatting and making my words look pretty.

  Thank you everyone.