Something So Unscripted

by Natasha Madison

  My husband is dead.

  Amazon

  Acknowledgments

  Every single time I keep thinking it’s going to be easy. It takes a village to help and I don’t want to leave anyone out.

  My Husband: I love you, I don’t tell you enough. Thank you for letting me sit in bed most of the day writing, and for not busting my chops when I don’t cook. Oh wait you do!

  My Kids: Matteo, Michael, and Erica, thank you for letting me do this. Thank you for being proud of me, I love you honey bunches and oats!

  Crystal: My hooker and bestie. What don’t you do for me? Everyone needs someone like you in their corner and I am so blessed than you chose to be in mine. I can’t begin to thank you for the support, love and encouragement along the way.

  Rachel: You are my blurb bitch. Each time you do it without even reading this book and you rocked it. I’m so happy that I didn’t give up when you ignored my many messages.

  Lori: I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. You take over and I don’t even have to ask or worry because I know everything will be fine, because you’re a rock star, I’m also scared of that whip!

  Melissa: My cover girl, I have more covers than stories, but I know you won’t let me stop. Thank you for sending me covers while I sleep so I don’t yell at you before you go to bed. I love you.

  Madison Maniacs: This little group went from two people to so much more and I can’t thank you guys enough. This group is my go to, my safe place. You push me and get excited for me and I can’t wait to watch us grow even bigger!

  BLOGGERS. THANK YOU FOR TAKING A CHANCE ON ME. You give so much of yourself effortlessly and you are the voice that we can’t do this without.

  My Girls: Sabrina, Melanie, Marie-Eve, Lydia, Shelly, Stephanie, Marisa. Your support during this whole ride has been amazing. I can honestly say without a doubt that I have the best Squad of life!!!!

  And Lastly and most importantly to YOU the reader, Without you none of this would be real. So thank you for reading!

  Something So Right Sneak Peak

  Start at the beginning

  Something So Right

  Giddy like a kid in a candy store, I skip up the front steps of the house. I haven’t seen him since he skated off the ice this morning and left me squirming in the locker room. Who knew dirty talk could be downright titillating? This girl right here, that’s who.

  I should just walk in like I normally do, but the door is locked, so I ring the doorbell, glancing around at the other houses. It’s so peaceful this time of day. Families getting ready to either go to the big football game or making dinner. The sound of footsteps draws my attention back to the door, with the goofiest smile I’ve ever had.

  “Hey—” The words die in my throat as I see a blond girl with legs all the way up to her throat wearing the same T-shirt he had on today. This can’t be happening. Heart pounding to an erratic rhythm, all the blood must have rushed to my head because I’m suddenly hot.

  “Can I help you?” Barbie asks, all perky and shit.

  “Ummm,” I stumble, trying to find my words because all I can think about is getting out of there before I embarrass myself or better yet get arrested for attempted murder. I mean, he was just with me almost naked!

  “I was looking for Coop. Is he here?” The words finally dislodge from my throat.

  She twirls her hair in her hand. Of course she does. She’s a fucking Barbie. “Yeah, he just stepped in the shower. Who are you?”

  “Oh, um, I’m Parker, his rehab coach.”

  “Oh, I heard so much about you. I’m Monica, the fiancée,” she says, flashing her five-carat ring.

  How did I not notice that rock while she was twirling her fucking hair?

  “Nice to meet you. I was just dropping by to let him know the hours have changed for practice tomorrow and that Tom will be there to assist him,” I say flatly, proud of myself for not saying what’s really on my mind.

  “Okay, do you want to come in and wait for him? He should be out any second.”

  Is she out of her fucking mind? I’m totally going to be superficial and say she’s a fucking airhead.

  “No.” I smile. “I’m headed out of town, so if you can just let him know.”

  “Oh, I’ll totally tell him.”

  Ugh, is that bile coming up my throat?

  “Thanks.” Without another word, I dash down the steps and whip my cell phone out. How, how in the ever loving fuck is this happening again? How is this possible? How many fucking people did I piss off on that Karma bus?

  Meg answers on the first ring.

  “Road trip.” My voice cracks, and I don’t know how, but she knows. She just knows I need her.

  “I’m packing. I’ll be ready in five.”

  A sob makes it out just as I press end and throw my phone across the car. I hope it smashes into pieces like my heart is right now.

  Something So Perfect Sneak Peak

  Something So Perfect

  Walking down the rubber mat to the ice, the smell gets you right away. Dry. It’s a smell you can’t describe. I’ve been skating before I could walk, according to my mom. I live and breathe for this sport. Even at the age of twenty-five, I still crave getting on the ice. When I’m almost near the door leading to the rink, I take off running, my skates sliding over the clean surface.

  Game day is a mix of different things for different players. For me, I get up early, get a workout in, and then relax till I have to make it to the rink, usually five hours before the game, to eat and get in the zone.

  The second I put my skate on the ice, the crowd goes wild.

  Little kids all line the boards, watching us skate around, shooting the puck doing drills. I stop in the corner and look up at the crowd as they take their seats while Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” fills the arena.

  “Big game,” my line mate, Phil, says right when he stops next to me. “We need this win if we want to qualify for the playoffs.”

  I handle the puck that’s ready on my blade for me to shoot at the person skating from the other side. I look down at the ice, and the Beavers are coming out strong, their goalie stopping every single puck that comes at him.

  “I want to fucking smash those assholes,” is the last thing I say before I take off to the center ice. The puck passed to me by Phil lands directly in the middle of the blade. I snipe it in as soon as it hits. Top corner, right over the goalie’s shoulder. My goalie, Luka, tells me to “fuck off” when I skate by him. I salute him while making my way to the bench where a reporter is standing interviewing our assistant coach.

  The coach walks away from the reporter, putting papers away in his coat pocket. The reporter looks at me. “You want to be interviewed, Grant?” he asks while checking his phone.

  I look him up and down. “Now you want to interview me?” I ask him, grabbing the water bottle on the ledge, squirting some in my mouth. “Weren’t you the one who started this fucking dumb campaign?” I smirk at him while checking the tape on my stick. “I believe the correct words were ‘time to hang up the skates, he’s done.’”

  His head snaps up and he tries to say something, but I ignore him and skate back to center ice.

  Chuck Harris, a Boston Beaver, is there watching me. “His highness is back.” He stands there looking at me. “Word is that your babysitter is a walking sex doll. Is that true?”

  He’s trying to bait me, trying to make me snap. I smirk at him, keeping my cool. That isn’t me anymore. I’m calm. I’m in a good place, and it’s all because of Karrie. I look up at where I know she will be sitting, but her seat is empty.

  I tilt my head to the side, wondering where she could be. The game is about to start. She is usually in her seat when we warm up, so I look around the arena to see if she is anywhere else.

  “Whatcha looking for?” Chuck smiles while he takes a drink from the green Gatorade bottle. I don’t bother answering him because the bell signals that it’s time for the Zamboni, so instead, I skate
to the bench and head for the dressing room.

  I sit down, taking off the tape from my stick and throwing it in the garbage, then getting my roll of tape that’s right next to my cell phone. As I reach for the tape, I see my phone light up with my mother’s number. She knows I’m on the ice, so it might be an emergency.

  “Hello,” I answer the phone, looking around.

  “Matthew, thank God. I want you to listen and say nothing. I have you on speaker. Cooper is here, too,” she says, and then Cooper’s voice sounds out. “Listen to us before you talk. Got me, son?” His voice is clipped.

  “What the fuck is going on?” My heart starts pounding, and my neck gets hot, while I hear a commotion coming from outside the locker room. Voices rise behind me.

  “There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Someone is accusing you of beating and raping her yesterday,” Cooper hisses out while I look at the door that’s being slammed open. “I have the lawyer already on his way to you. You say nothing, son, nothing.”

  Two suit-wearing detectives come into the room. “Matthew Grant”—they flash their badges—“we have a couple of questions we need to ask,” one of them says while I hear Cooper still on the line. “Don’t say a fucking word, Matthew. We are coming to you.”

  “Now?” I hear Coach behind me yelling. “You do this to him now, two seconds before he’s supposed to go on the ice?” He glares at them. They obviously couldn’t care less.

  “You need to come down to the station with us,” the man continues, but I’m standing here with my mouth open, my ear drums pounding, and the phone to my ear. “We can walk out of here civilized or we can strap the cuffs on you. One way or another, you aren’t getting on that ice.”

  My teammates are standing up to see what’s going on and shaking their heads.

  “This is bullshit.” I hear Coach say while the guys nod.

  Phil comes up to me and whispers, “Don’t say a fucking word.”

  I don’t have time to process things before I’m being ushered out of the locker room. The only thing I take off is my skates.

  I walk out of the building and I’m led into an unmarked car. When I look out the side window, I see the owner of the team is now standing with Karrie by his side. His hands are around her shoulders, her face streaked with tears. “Karrie!” I yell from inside the car. “Karrie!”

  Nothing. She turns around and walks back into the arena, leaving me alone with the silence that now fills the car.

  Something So Irresistible Sneak Peak

  Something So Irresistible

  “You may now kiss the bride,” Judge Reynolds says right before Max grabs my face in both of his hands.

  “I love you,” he whispers, then his lips land on mine, gently and full of love.

  My hands go to his waist as I close my eyes and take in the safety of my husband.

  “I love you with everything that I am,” he murmurs against my lips. I smile and look into his crystal blue eyes.

  “I love you more,” I say. He lets go of my face and we shake the judge’s hand. He grabs my hand and we walk out of his chambers while my chiffon train trails us.

  Max proposed to me three hours ago. He got down on one knee and vowed to love me and only me till his last dying breath while I stood there in the middle of the shark reef in the Mandalay Bay. It took me two seconds before I nodded and got down on my knees with him, buried my face into his chest, and cried from happiness. I was completely and utterly in love with him. And not one person in my family knew. Well, none of the men knew. But this isn’t about them. This is about me, about Max, about how he took my heart into his hand and treated it like delicate crystal, making sure he bubble wrapped it to keep it safe.

  Now here I am, watching my husband dressed in a black tux hold my hand and me in my two-piece lace dress. It is beaded from my collar all the way down. It ties around my neck but leaves my back bare. My arms are also bare. A gold belt ties the second part of the dress, floor-length split chiffon. My legs slip out while I walk, showing off my something blue, which is my Carrie Bradshaw Blue Manolo Blahnik.

  As soon as the door to the chapel opens, my chiffon dress blows up almost like Marilyn Monroe’s, the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas almost non-existent since we are off the Strip. Someone in the distance must have snapped a picture because his flash went off.

  “I think someone just took a picture of us,” I tell him while we make our way to the car that is waiting for us.

  “Angel, it’s Vegas, everyone is taking pictures.” He waits for me to get in before climbing in after me. “So, my wife, where do you want to go?” Max turns to me and smiles while his thumb rubs the hand he’s holding.

  “Back to our room.” I look at our hands. “I want to go back with you and lock the door and just be with my husband.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” He pulls me to him, his arm going around my shoulder, and I fit perfectly in the crook of his arm.

  We watch the city lights come into focus again once we get on the Strip. Walking through the lobby, I hold on to my husband’s hand, watching his ring glisten in the light. Max unlocks the door for us. Walking in, I head for the living room that is now turned into what looks like a small reception. Gone are the couches, and in their place is a cast iron square with blush pink roses wrapped all around it. Tea lights make it across. All the furniture is gone. The only thing in this room are blush roses, which are my favorites.

  “This place looks like a fairy tale.”

  Max walks to me, holding a bouquet in his hands. “For you.” He hands it to me as our song “Dive” comes on.

  “Dance with me?” I ask him as I walk to him.

  “Every single day of my life.” He wraps an arm around my waist. I hold the bouquet around his shoulders and we hold our free hands to his chest.

  He takes his phone out and raises his hand, snapping a picture of us. I’m looking at the camera while he looks at me. “Stunning,” he says quietly as his cell phone rings. “Angel, don’t freak out.” His voice is curt, tight.

  I don’t have to time to say anything because my phone buzzes with a text from Matthew.

  Allison, when you get this you better call me.

  “Oh my God.” I look at him. “What did we just do?” He looks at me shocked, steps back, and away from me.

  “Max.” I reach out to him while he dodges me.

  “A mistake.”

  I don’t know if he’s asking or telling. My heart hurts as his eyes go dark. He darts out of the room and the front door slams after him. As I stand here in my wedding dress, a tear rolls down my face, and I look down and see my glistening wedding band.

  Tempt The Boss Sneak Peak

  Tempt The Boss

  I’m singing along to Maroon Five’s “Don’t Wanna Know” when a call comes in. Penelope’s name flashes on the screen. Penelope is my friend from college, the only friend who I kept in touch with. She runs an HR firm that specializes in placing temps. She is the reason I have this job right now.

  “Hello,” I say while I wait for her voice to fill the car.

  “Hey, there, just checking in. You ready?” she asks me. I hear her rustling papers in the background, so I know she is already at her desk.

  “Yup, I’m on my way there now. I’m so nervous, I may puke, though. But I’ll be on time.” I chuckle at the thought of me barfing all over my new boss. I brake for the traffic that is slowing to a crawl in front of me when I feel my van jerk forward slightly. My head flies forward and then snaps back. Looking in my mirror, I see that someone just hit me. “Oh my god. Someone just ran into me. Fuck me, P. I have to call you back,” I say, unlocking my seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

  I put my Tory Birch sunglasses on top of my head, walking to the back to see the damage. I don’t even have time to get there before I hear a raspy voice ask, “What the hell is wrong with you? You just stopped!” I put a hand over my eyes to block the sun and see him. And boy, do I see him. My heart skips a beat when he
whips his aviator sunglasses off his face.

  He’s about six feet tall, maybe taller, with dark hair that’s short on the sides and a bit longer at the top, which almost looks like it was combed back by his hands. His eyes are a mossy green with shimmery gold flecks in them that I can see thanks to the sun hitting them just right. A freshly-shaven face that shows off the strong angles of his jaw and hints at where I’m sure a five-o’clock-shadow of delicious stubble will emerge in a few hours.

  He’s wearing a suit minus the jacket. His dark blue pants are a perfect fit, molding to him like they were made especially for him, and from the looks of them, they probably were. His crisp, white dress shirt is open at the collar and covers his broad chest and thick biceps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and show off a big, masculine silver Rolex watch.

  He throws his hand up as he angrily asks, “Is something wrong with you? Are you drunk?”