What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  He was the envy of men, the target of lust for women. Yet he was miserable. Still unable to find the thing to settle him. “Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing his suit coat and package of info Jason had put together for the relocating doctors. He had a lot going for him, including his niece and nephew, and they were due in for a visit soon. He had money to do whatever he wanted, friends here, there, everywhere, including Rob whose success at opening and running a brew pub with his boyfriend still boggled Jack’s mind. Maybe he should get a dog…he mused for the millionth time as he climbed into the Lincoln SUV he kept to haul clients around.

  Within five minutes of picking up the couple, he was ready to screech to a halt and toss them out on their asses. They were the worst kind of pretentious, moving from Bahhhston, from their precious Haaavaaahd to this, apparently backwater, hillbilly town of Ann Arbor, Michigan. Mister Doctor was going to serve as head of otolaryngology or some shit, and Missus Doctor would be forced to start her plastic surgery practice all over again. They were insufferable. Jack had to bite his tongue nearly in half to keep from telling them as much.

  They dawdled at the first two condos, arguing over the relative merits of a central vacuum system, claiming that there was no way on earth or heaven that Ann Aahbahh could have possibly the vacuum sucking power that Cambridge did. He groaned, noting the time. If he didn’t get the doctor assholes out of here, through the penthouse he was ready to sell them soon, he would be an hour late for his date.

  Not that the prospect sounded too bad at the moment, as the woman in question had called him twice while he was trying to work, which he had ignored. He sincerely hoped she would prove worth it, as he was starting to doubt that the house she was offering would be. He’d fucked his way into some prime listings, as early as his first weeks on the job. It was a method that had stood him in good stead. But now, today, it felt all sorts of tawdry and lame.

  He ignored the yammering jerks in the back of his SUV and pulled into the underground parking of the large, almost new condo building just a block off the main intersections of downtown Ann Arbor. His construction company had done the interior work on this building, and he was proud of how it had turned out. But he was within seconds of suggesting they skip it. He left his engine running long enough to turn and hope he could convince them to go the fuck back to Massachusetts and leave him in peace. He kept his hand on the wheel, ready to bolt.

  “Hey, you know, you guys may not like this unit. It’s smaller than the last one, and I know you had a thing about wanting that extra study. This is a penthouse and it’s a very open floor plan so….” He moved his hand down to the gear shift, his heart already lightening at the thought of dumping them back at the hotel and getting the hell away. Nothing was worth this torture.

  “Oh, no,” Missus Doctor Bitchface waved her ring-laden finger and drew up the corner of her collagen plump lips. “We’re here, aren’t we? Might as well.” She shrugged, and Mister Doctor Asswipe chuckled as if to suggest that it was Jack’s fault for pulling into the dark parking lot—that if he had thought ahead and just skipped it altogether they could be shed of each other’s company by now. He cursed under his breath and turned off the ignition.

  His shirt was sticking to his back, and he was limp with the effort of trying to say or do anything right for these snobs. Nearly suffocated by his own flop sweat, he couldn’t wait to unload them and take a long shower.

  He swore again when the elevator opened up next to the single door and noted that the lock box was cracked open already. Glancing at his watch and the notes Jason had written on his listing sheet he saw that the place was vacant, and there was nothing about an earlier showing. He’d trained his assistant to always ask that. He hated nothing more than bumping up against another agent coming or going. It was a pet peeve of his. He banged on the door, anger clouding his already frustration-addled brain.

  Goddamn it was hot in this hall. He shot the couple an insincere smile, and touched his knuckles to the door once more at the same moment it swung open. He started to speak. When he saw who stood there, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  “Oh, hi Jack,” the woman was just disheveled and blushing enough to send his inner sexual Dominant a crystal clear message. He knew who she was. And her name wafted across his brain in a way that both soothed and irritated him.

  He held out a hand, his voice still not working until she laid the set of keys there, sending a bolt of something new and fresh up his arm to the base of his skull. She met his gaze, her emerald green eyes flashing once before she looked straight down to the floor.

  The dark curtain that had covered his soul for the last months, years even, seemed to sweep back. He could practically feel himself standing up straighter, sensed the colors in the room deepening, sharpening, the more they stood there in what would be awkward silence. He blew out a breath that he had not realized he’d been holding, then rallied, looked over her shoulder and spotted the man behind her. But when he fixed his eyes back on her deep, green gaze once more he couldn’t repress a huge smile. “Hey Sara,” he said.

  Epilogue

  The sand was cool on Jack’s bare feet. Sun warmed his back. He could smell the fragrance of roses, and sunscreen. He touched the flower pinned to his shirt, trying to convince himself this day was actually happening.

  Activity along the beach was dying down as the guests started taking their seats. He was tucked towards the back, still in the shadow of the multi-layered deck that connected Rob and Blake’s Lake Michigan house to the shore below. His head was clear, but he could feel his knees quaking and acknowledged at that moment—he was flat out terrified.

  Not at the step he was taking. Of that he was a hundred percent confident. He loved, was loved, and they were making it official in front of family and friends, finally.

  No, he was afraid of failing. Because of all the things he had succeeded at—work, investments, taking over his father’s construction company, even his impressive golf handicap—he’d never once in his entire life had a successful emotional relationship with a member of the opposite sex.

  He spotted his sister and her kids sitting in the front row. Her face was pensive, but when she glanced up and met his gaze, she blew him a kiss and gave him a thumbs-up. He waved, weakly, a sudden wave of nausea making him suck in a breath. God he wished Brandis were here.

  “Hey, thought you might want this.”

  He turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Blake, Sara’s brother, a man who could be her twin in male form stood holding a couple of sweating bottles of beer from his and Rob’s brew pub. Jack hesitated, his ingrained reaction to Sara’s overprotective brother kicking in. But he let it go and held out a hand. They sipped in silence, observing the gathered group milling around while the string quartet played on the deck above them. “I’m happy for you,” his almost brother-in-law said, keeping his eyes trained to the horizon.

  Jack finished his beer and held onto the bottle, gripping it tight as the hard reality of their situation hit him. His friend Rob was very sick. The cancer that had lain in wait, in remission, had returned with a vengeance. They weren’t sure how much longer he would last. But he had found love, with, of all people, Sara’s brother, way before Sara and Jack even met. It had made the last few years interesting to say the least. But Jack would take the blame for some of it, and lay the rest at the feet of the woman he was about to marry, and the guy now staring at him, his green eyes a perfect match for Sara’s.

  “I know, Blake. Thanks. That means so much…to us both.” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. They were dressed in similar fashion, khaki pants rolled up over their ankles, feet bare, with soft white cotton shirts bearing a single rose—Blake’s, Rob’s and Evan’s were cream colored. Jack’s was deep red.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Blake said, around the mouth of his beer bottle. “That’s all I ask.”

  Jack smiled, put his hand out, and Blake shook it. “It is now my solemn mission in life to make sure she is never, eve
r hurt.”

  “Daddy!” A small voice made him turn. Reacting to that word still surprised him. “Uncle Blake!” The little girl raced toward them, her soft, gauzy dress already wrinkled, the flowers in her hair dropping behind her as she ran.

  “Hey sweetie,” Blake said, kneeling down to greet her. “What’s up? You’re supposed to be with your mom.”

  “She’s crying. So I left,” she said in her matter-of-fact way, clambering into her uncle’s embrace. Blake shot Jack a look. He put a hand on the little girl’s warm back.

  “Kate, honey, what’s wrong with Mommy?”

  “She says she’s happy. But she won’t stop crying and it’s messing up her makeup and Julie keeps trying to fix it but….” The girl shrugged and reached for him. Jack took his daughter in his arms, closing his eyes for a split second, realizing how very close he had come to losing her, to losing Sara. The last few years were more fraught than he cared to remember. But now, finally, he had it, the final piece in his puzzle—his family. Katie snuggled into his neck. “I’m hungry. Can we have a snack?”

  “Tell you what. You go back and tell Mommy that you’re hungry and that Daddy wants to see her, all pretty and not crying. It’s time for her to get down here.”

  “So we can get married?” The girl’s bright green eyes lit up at the word.

  “Yeah, baby, so we can get married.”

  Katie took off, her tanned brown legs pumping fast under the out-of-character girlie dress.

  “Jack,” Kyle appeared, holding out a hand. He’d gone and gotten himself ordained or whatever one does, and could officiate at weddings. He was the obvious choice, since neither Jack nor Sara was religious. He wore his khakis and a white shirt too. His face was calm. His eyes twinkled. “Let’s go, man. Time to do this thing.”

  Jack sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the small, flower covered arbor on the beach. Kyle leaned in at one point and said, “You sure about this? Don’t want to rush you or anything.” Jack looked at him, and grinned at the absurdity of that statement.

  Then he simply stood waiting. When he saw her appear at the top of the deck, face radiant, hair flowing down around her shoulders, the simple white sundress highlighting her every curve, and smiling right at him, Jack finally felt true happiness.

  Later, during all the hullabaloo, food, drinks, photos, she dragged him aside and pressed her body close. He shifted, feeling himself respond, and leaned down to kiss her but she turned her head away. “What?” he said, knowing she was about to say something. Putting a hand to her face, he let himself have it—another moment of raw, visceral joy.

  She held onto his waist, put her forehead to his. “I’m pregnant,” she said.

  He blinked. “Oh, uh, so….”

  “Yeah, that weekend. The bad one…but, I guess something good came of it.” She blushed, which made him love her even more. He grinned, kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Well, no beer for you then, eh, Mrs. Gordon?

  “I love you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes again.

  “No more crying, Sara,” he said, his entire body suffused with more purpose than he had ever felt. He took her left hand, kissed the simple band she had insisted on. After twice wearing large, obnoxious engagement rings he had given her that she’d flung at him later, this seemed best, she said, better luck for them.

  Life with this woman was not going to be a cakewalk. But he wanted it and everything that came with it. “I love you too. Now, let’s go mingle a little because I am counting the hours until the honeymoon,” They turned and he gripped her ass, making her yelp as he waved at some guests gathered around the small bonfires on the beach. “Hope you took your vitamins,” he whispered out the side of his mouth as they walked hand-in-hand toward their friends and family.

  Other Books By Liz Crowe

  Want to know what happens between the last chapter and the epilogue?

  Floor Time (Book 1)

  Sweat Equity (Book 2)

  Closing Costs (Book 3)

  Want to know more about Rob and Blake?

  Essence of Time (stand alone OR Book 4)

  For the rest of the Stewart Realty Saga:

  Conditional Offer (Suzanne’s story, Book 5)

  Escalation Clause (Maureen’s story, Book 6)

  Mutual Release (Evan and Julie, standalone novel OR Book 7)

  Good Faith (Final Novel)

  Then Dive Into the BLACK JACK GENTLEMEN: A Stewart Realty Side Series

  Man On

  Red Card

  Shut Out

  About the Author

  Craft beer marketing expert, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.

  When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.

  Her groundbreaking romance subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

  Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.

  Website:

  www.lizcrowe.com

  Blogs:

  www.brewingpassion.com

  www.a2beerwench.com

  Facebook:

  www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor

  www.facebook.com/groups/lizcrowefans

  Twitter:

  www.twitter.com/beerwencha2

  No More Wasted Time

  Beverly Preston

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor publisher has received any payment for the “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2012 by Beverly Preston

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover designed by Yevinn Graphic at www.yevinn.com.

  Visit Beverly at www.beverlypreston.com.

  ISBN: 1469905833

  ISBN-13: 978-1469905839

  To Don

  You are the love of my life and the man of my dreams

  Thanks for loving me

  —just right—

  Acknowledgments

  A book never writes itself, and finding the courage to put my blip of a dream to paper took some coaxing. I would like to thank my family and friends who supported me in my endeavors, listened when I cried, and gave me words of encouragement. Your support and friendship are priceless. Sandy Mohn and Sherrie Lee, you are the best mother and sister anyone could hope for. Karen Collins, you motivated me to keep going and be true to myself. Jewel Peck, you thought my sex scenes were a little too sweet in the beginning; hope you enjoy the rewrites! Lynette Owens, you taught me how to manifest and make my dreams come true. Lynn Bieker, thank you for being my faithful friend for over twenty-three years.

  I would also like to thank Natascha Jaffa, my friend and editor.

  Yevinn Graphics, thanks for making my cover art smoking HOT.

  Geoff Schumacher, you gave me some invaluable advice in the very beginning. Without it, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.

  Morgan Ke
arns, you inspire me.

  Ellen, I hope you read this someday; thanks for making me laugh. Without watching your program, there would be no dream.

  Finally, I would like to give a big thank you to my kids, Stephen, Cody, Caylee and Jordyn. I couldn’t ask for better children. You inspire me every day to be a better person. Jordyn, thanks for making the best walnut chicken dinner.

  And a very special thanks to Caylee for agonizing over every line with me, laughing with me, and giving the best words of encouragement exactly when I needed them the most. Love you.

  Chapter One

  Tess Matthews nearly ran face first into the biggest pair of boobs she’d ever seen.

  “Holy shit! Whew. That was close.”

  The Las Vegas airport bustled with tourists hoping to win millions, party like a rock star or pretend to be someone else for a weekend. The sweltering July heat always brought the craziest of crazies to town and today was no exception.

  “That might’ve hurt.” Tess’ oldest daughter Tracy giggled. “You would’ve had two black eyes.”

  “Two huge black eyes.” Her youngest daughter JC clarified, elbowing Tess in the ribs, encouraging her to peek at the elderly couple dressed-to-impress Vegas style. As if she hadn’t just collided with another woman’s vast amount of cleavage because of them. Her daughters pointed at the woman in her late seventies sporting bleach blond hair, red six-inch heels, black spandex pants and a form fitting purple shirt. Her spray-tanned, saggy arm clung to the shoulder of a frail man dressed in black leather pants and vest.