Six Romantic Suspense Novellas
Heather Horrocks
Stephanie Black
Heather B. Moore
Sarah M. Eden
Rachelle J. Christensen
Annette Lyon
Copyright © 2013 by Mirror Press, LLC
Ebook edition
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Cover Design by Christina Marcano
Interior Design by Heather Justesen
Edited by Annette Lyon
Published by Mirror Press, LLC
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A Chick Flick Clique Story
By Heather Horrocks
To my naughty little dog, Gus, who is not a dachshund, but is every bit as cool as Elvis any day. And to Mark, even though he has never really been a dachshund or an ardent Elvis fan.
Chapter One
The closest I ever came to getting married was just before I started singing. In fact, my first record saved my neck. —Elvis Presley
Autumn Festival, Aspen Grove, California ~ Friday, October 10th
“Could they have named this dog race anything sillier?” Kaitlin Hartley smiled at her friend as she opened the back door of her silver Jetta and unhooked her dachshund, Elvis, from the safety restraint. She attached his leash, set him on the ground, and bumped the door shut with her hip.
Kneeling, Lindsey Taylor rubbed Elvis behind his ears. Immediately, he flopped onto the ground in ecstasy and rolled over for his belly to be rubbed. She snorted. “It was my brother’s idea. He’s very proud of it.”
“Figures.” A couple of years older than Kaitlin and Lindsey, Jake was Aspen Grove’s youngest mayor ever.
“But the First Annual Running of the Hallowieners? Seriously?”
“Halloween is only three weeks away.” Lindsey gave Elvis one last pat, helped him upright, dusted him off, and stood. “We’d better get over to the starting line. Ethan said he’d be there too.”
Ethan Peterson was Lindsey’s on-again/off-again fiancé. Current status: Definitely on. Kaitlin used to double date with them back when she was still with... Oh, no. She was so not going there. Patting her dog’s head, she said, “Let’s go, Elvis.”
She walked with Lindsey from the parking lot toward the entrance of Morrison Motorsports Park. The owners of the car and motorcycle race track had generously offered to host this particular Autumn Festival Race. Kaitlin had heard of dachshund races, but hadn’t seen one until looking some up on YouTube a few nights ago. She’d decided to participate because it looked like it would be good, silly fun.
And, after the last year of intensive interior-designer training in New York, and the past week, when Kaitlin passed her certification test, she could use some good, silly fun.
Moving through the track entrance booths, Kaitlin signed in at the racers’ table by the finish line. Checkered flags poked out of the top of a tall, round container— more to add comedy than realism, no doubt.
The young lady at the table, one of the teenage King twins, pointed to the row of large, bumpy plastic bags lined up behind her. “Inside is your dog’s official racing uniform plus race buttons for the two people who will be at the starting and finish lines. Anyone else will need to stand along the sides of the track. You’re assigned to lane four of the speedway.”
“Thanks.” Kaitlin handed Elvis’s leash to Lindsey and took one of the large bags. She peered inside, moved a few things around, and laughed. “A hot-dog costume? For a wiener-dog race? Are you kidding me?”
“No joke.” The King girl shrugged. “It was the mayor’s idea.”
Kaitlin glanced at Lindsey, who put up her hands in protest. “Hey, I can’t be held accountable for my brother. I’m just related to him.”
Elvis wanted to sniff everything as they made their way the hundred feet or so from the table to the starting line. Chalk lines had been added to the car race track, marking a rectangle with the start and finish lines on each end, makeshift waist-high barriers along the longer sides, and lanes drawn up the middle. It made Kaitlin smile to think about the probability of the dogs actually staying in those pretty little lanes.
At the far end of the rectangle, she found lane four, Elvis’s starting position, and glanced at her watch. Ten-ten. They still had twenty minutes until race time.
Elvis sat on his rump and looked up at her with soulful eyes. Unable to resist, she bent down and gave him a love. “You are the cutest dog ever.”
“He is. And it is so good to see you back in town, Kaitlin Hartley.”
Kaitlin turned and got out, “Candy!” before being swept into a hug.
Candy Kane owned Candy’s Café, the place Kaitlin loved to hang out— and so did half the town. She reminded Kaitlin of Doris Day in her heyday, with streaked blonde hair curving gently about her face. She had to be in her mid-forties and probably weighed twenty or thirty pounds more than she had in her twenties, but she looked stylish.
“Have you seen Joshua yet?” Candy asked.
“Not yet,” Kaitlin said, forcing a smile and changing the subject. “Do you have a dog in the race?”
Candy shook her head. “I’m looking for Sonnet Cassidy. She’s the official photographer for the race.”
“I haven’t seen Sonnet in forever. I thought she was living with her parents.”
“She’s moved here and her father is not happy about it.” Candy smiled. “But your parents seemed to be happy with you being in New York for school. Even though they missed you. Are you done now?”
“Yup. Took my certification test last week.”
“And you accepted the job at Kosta Architecture?”
Kaitlin nodded. “My dream design job.”
“Be sure to bring some of your designs on over to the café, okay?”
Kaitlin said, “I will,” and turned back to Elvis.
It took a few extra minutes for both Kaitlin and Lindsey to stuff his long body into the hot dog costume because of his excited wiggling and wagging tail. Then they stood back to get a good look.
Pieces of bun ran along each flank, with Elvis’s body being the actual hot dog portion of the costume, with a ribbon of ketchup squiggled along the top, which covered the triangle-shaped white marking on the fur of his dark brown back. As if he’d had enough excitement, he sat himself down again.
Kaitlin looked down on her little dog and crooned, “You’re the cutest little hound dog ever.”
“He looks more hang dog than hound dog,” Lindsey teased and then spoke to the little dog. “But you look really handsome
, Elvis. Really. You are definitely the manliest hot dog on this track.” Lindsey looked over at Kaitlin. “Are you sure dachshunds are really hound dogs?”
“Yes, they are.” Kaitlin nodded. “I don’t think he likes the costume. He’d probably rather be in a sequined jumpsuit.” Kaitlin scratched behind her dog’s ears; he tipped his head and closed his eyes. “But you sure like this, don’t you, boy?”
“Maybe he needs some blue suede shoes or something,” Lindsey said, and then her voice rose. “Oh, no!”
“What?” Kaitlin looked up in surprise.
Lindsey pointed down the line. “There! Double trouble!”
Holding the end of Elvis’s leash, Kaitlin stood and searched the crowd where her friend was pointing. What she saw at the far end of the starting line sucked her breath away. After a moment of stunned silence, she whispered, “Oh, no, no no. Is that Joshua?”
“Worse—Ethan. The bum is helping Joshua! I don’t believe this. I’ll be back before the race starts. I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind. Maybe it’s time for him to choose between me and Joshua.” And Kaitlin’s emotionally volatile friend shot off toward her unsuspecting boyfriend.
Kaitlin’s heart pounded.
Joshua Moore.
The one man she didn’t want to run into in Aspen Grove. Especially not when she’d only been back in town for one week. Give it a month or two— another year— and maybe she could handle it. Maybe. But not like this, not so unexpectedly.
Frozen in place, Kaitlin watched as Lindsey rounded on Ethan. She could hear their raised voices but couldn’t make out the words through the sounds of the crowd— the same crowd who now watched the couple with interest. Kaitlin could see the angry sparks from here.
Lindsey pointed back toward Kaitlin, and both Ethan and Joshua looked her way. If Joshua’s narrowed gaze and frown were any indication, he wasn’t any happier to see her than she was to see him.
His gaze locked with hers, and warmth flooded her cheeks.
He was dressed in his trademark faded blue jeans and cowboy boots, his muscles sharply defined in a long-sleeved dark blue shirt. His dark hair was a little too long— just the length she liked to run her fingers through.
A familiar physical attraction flashed through her veins.
Appalled at her reaction, she turned, her hands trembling on the leash. Stop that! She wanted nothing to do with the man.
He’d broken her heart once.
She wasn’t going to give him the chance to do it again.
Chapter Two
Ambition is a dream with a V8 engine. —Elvis Presley
Kaitlin wanted to win this race.
She wanted Elvis to beat Joshua’s matching dachshund, Priscilla, to the finish line.
Joshua stood behind the finish line in lane fifteen, Kaitlin in four. She had to force her gaze away from his magnetic pull. It infuriated her that she was still so attracted to him. That simply had to change.
At the starting line, Lindsey held Elvis’s collar, and Ethan held Priscilla’s— the matching purple collars they’d purchased in a former love life. Lindsey not only didn’t mind looking at Ethan, she called out periodic insults. If it hadn’t been so horrible, this day might actually be funny. Maybe in twenty years, she’d laugh about it.
The line of dachshunds in hot-dog costumes was genuinely funny, but she wasn’t in any mood to laugh at those, anyway. She just wanted to beat Joshua.
Over the loudspeaker, Mayor Jake Taylor said, “The race is about to begin, folks, so give your dog any last-minute instructions, and we’ll begin the official countdown.”
Lindsey stopped glaring at Ethan and knelt by Elvis— probably to tell him to forget the race and take Ethan down!
Jake continued with, “All right, friends. Welcome to the First Annual Running of the Hallowieners, the newest event in Aspen Grove’s Autumn Festival, the race where the dogs are nearly as long as the track. We want to thank the fine folks of Morrison Motorsports Park for offering their award-winning race track for this special event.” The owner of the track, the elder Mr. Morrison, spoke for a couple of minutes and handed the mic back to Jake.
Two men at the sidelines began waving the official racetrack starting flags, and Jake continued. “All right, hot doggers. Get ready to set your long dogs loose on the word go. Ready? All right. Here we... three... two... one... GO!”
As soon as the dogs were loosed, the track erupted in noise. The people at the starting line and along the sides cheered for their favorites, while everyone at the finish line called their dog to them, hoping to win the prize: the twenty bucks was short on cash but long on bragging rights over something silly, and sometimes that was its own reward.
Of the twenty or so hot-dog-costumed dachshunds, only three sprinted. One was Elvis, who bounded straight toward Kaitlin. “Good boy. Come on, Elvis!”
The other two were Priscilla and a dog Kaitlin didn’t recognize. They weren’t a worry, though, because Elvis was in the lead.
The rest of the dachshunds either strolled toward their owners, to someone at the side barriers, or stood there looking confused at all the noise. One little dog sat on its rump and howled.
Elvis and Priscilla and the third dog continued to race toward the finish line. “Come on, Elvis! You can do it! I love you, Priscilla, but you are going down.”
Then, as if from a telepathic dog signal, Elvis and Priscilla stopped running and moved toward each other. It was the doggie version of those old movies with two people running in slow motion across the field. Or like watching cars spin out of a race.
“No, Elvis! You’re supposed to beat Priscilla, not lick her face!”
But the two dogs, who had always loved each other dearly, rolled over each other, licked each other’s faces, and in general showed that they’d missed each other terribly.
A cheer went up as the third sprinter jumped across the finish line and into its owner’s arms, checkered flags waving. A few of the other dogs ambled across the finish line. The little dog still howled.
Elvis and Priscilla continued to play. Frolic. Gambol.
Their hot-dog costumes shifted on their bodies as they played, the buns sliding from the sides to the top and back.
Kaitlin took a deep, resigned breath and rose to her feet. She called Elvis’s name again, and she heard Joshua calling to Priscilla, but the dogs ignored them in the midst of their little doggy reunion.
Lindsey shot her a disappointed frown. Kaitlin nodded at her friend. Then, deliberately not looking at Joshua, though she could see him in her peripheral vision, she walked toward the two dogs.
While Joshua and Kaitlin were dating, they’d decided it would be fun to get two matching dogs. When they’d found these, brother and sister, with identical triangle-shaped white markings on their back, they’d fallen in love with the little dogs. Joshua had good-naturedly let Kaitlin name them after her favorite singer and his wife. She loved both dogs.
When Kaitlin reached them, she knelt and petted them both. Both dogs jumped into her arms, sending her off balance just enough that she toppled over. She couldn’t help laughing as she tried to avoid their eager tongues.
Forget Joshua— though she couldn’t actually do that— she just let herself love on both dogs for a minute. When the dogs settled down, she gave them a last pat and pushed herself to her knees and to her feet. Only then did she look at Joshua.
Still frowning, he said, “When did you get back?”
“Last weekend,” she answered, her voice icy. “Not that you care.”
He shrugged casually. “I always cared.”
“Oh, right.” She glared back, thinking of the woman he’d chosen to date after she’d left town, Betty Branson. Kaitlin used her nickname. “Bitty? Really? Give me a break. Don’t you have any class at all?”
“May I remind you that you left me behind?”
“You could have followed.”
“And left my dream behind while you went for yours?” He looked away for a lon
g moment. “I wanted you to stay.”
She trembled with indignation. “I didn’t come back to fight with you. I also want nothing to do with you.”
“Fine.” Without looking away from her hostile gaze, he clipped a leash onto Priscilla. “See you around, Katie.”
“Don’t you dare call me that! You are not authorized to use pet names for me anymore.”
Without looking back, he put a hand in the air and then started walking away toward the parking lot.
Anger filling her, Kaitlin clipped the leash on Elvis. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Three
I don't know anything about music. In my line you don't have to. —Elvis Presley
By the time they’d reached the car, Lindsey had caught up with Kaitlin and Elvis. “Oh, my gosh, I am never speaking to Ethan again. Ever.”
Kaitlin had heard that before and knew her friend would change her volatile mind in a few hours or days. She was like a flaming star— she always cooled back down.
“I hope I never have to speak to Joshua again either.” Shivering in the cool October air, Kaitlin unlocked her Jetta, opened the back door, lifted Elvis onto the car’s back seat, and put the safety harness on him. He settled himself on his cushion— specially made of blue suede, of course.
Lindsey flounced into the passenger seat and slapped on her seatbelt.
Kaitlin sighed and joined her, starting the car, hoping to get heat circulating. The gauge on the dash read fifty-three degrees outside. Downright chilly for the first dachshund race.
“I hate him,” Lindsey said softly, staring straight ahead.
“No, you don’t. You love him. You always have. You always will.”
“I hate them both. Ethan and Joshua. They are such jerks.”
Kaitlin didn’t answer as she adjusted the vents to blow semi-warm air on her hands.
Autumn Anthology Page 1