Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  “Oh, sorry. I was just looking for someone. I thought you might’ve seen him. I’m Lucy, by the way.”

  “Anna,” I said, shaking the hand she offered. “And I didn’t. Sorry.”

  “No worries, Anna.” She was still smiling as she turned away again.

  I was sure I’d seen her red bikini on television, and she had the supermodel body to wear it. For a moment I wondered if they might be as-yet unknown celebrities, here for a secret, incognito weekend before going public and becoming superstars. Only, why would they pick this spot?

  More likely they were from Crystal Beach or Hammond Island—one of the ritzy gated communities lining the coast to the east. Only, it still didn’t make sense for them to be here. Those places had their own guarded beaches, safe from the commoners like me.

  The guy spoke again in his smooth, deep voice. “Let’s go. He’s not coming.”

  “You’re being annoying, Jack,” she said, leaning back on her elbows and getting comfortable. “It’s only been five minutes. He hasn’t had a chance.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this again.”

  She waved at the turquoise water. “Cool off and give him a few more minutes.”

  It was impossible not to stare as Jack walked down to the shore. His unbuttoned shirt blew in the breeze showing off his lined torso, and his board shorts hung loosely around his waist. The water rushed around his legs and my heart beat a little faster as I imagined the impossible—me standing beside him, him putting his arm around me, maybe pulling me in for a hug. I actually shivered at the thought.

  I didn’t have a ton of experience with guys, but I knew what a hug felt like. And in a place where most people lived in swimsuits half the year, I was familiar with the sensation of skin against skin.

  Suddenly he turned back. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed, even though I knew he couldn’t see me watching him behind my dark sunglasses. When I peeked again, he was back on the towel, feet shoved in the sand, seeming angry.

  “So is B.J. short for ‘bad joke’?”

  Lucy shook her golden hair back. “Something must’ve happened.”

  “Good. This was a setup for trouble. Again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do,” Jack said. “And it won’t get you what you want.”

  She sat up and smiled, blinking innocently. “I want to find the cute lifeguard I met at Scoops yesterday.”

  “You want things to be different with Dad.” Jack’s voice was low and even.

  “Dad can go straight to hell.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly the message you send.”

  Jack exhaled and smoothed the sand under his hands. I was flat-out eavesdropping, no getting around it, but their conversation fascinated me. Not to mention, he was in perfect view.

  “Besides,” Lucy sighed, her voice a little sad. “I can’t change the reason Dad hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you—”

  “Or pretends I don’t exist.” She slid her long hair back and held it in a ponytail for a moment before dropping it. “But you know what? I’m glad I look like Mom. She was a beauty queen. You got a few of her genes yourself.”

  Jack stood and grabbed his towel. “This conversation is stupid. And I’m leaving.”

  “Whatever. It’s hot.” She pulled her long cover-up over her head, and hot or not, she looked fresh, like she hadn’t been in the sun at all.

  My eyes followed them back to the parking lot where Jack threw their stuff into the back of steel-grey Jeep. Two doors slammed and they sped off, heading east, in the direction of Hammond Island. And that, I assumed, was the end of it.

  For a few moments, everything felt quieter. Even the sun seemed a bit dimmer with their departure. I stood and walked to the water’s edge. The smell of salt and fresh fish always hung in the air here, and sometimes dolphins could be spotted swimming around, playing just off the coastline. If I were going to be abandoned, at least it was in a pretty place. The noise of the breaking waves comforted me, and I pulled off my hat so my light-brown hair could blow free. It would be huge and horrible in less than ten seconds, but I didn’t care.

  The further east you traveled, along the Florida coastline, the water grew more and more turquoise, the sand more sugary-white. Maybe for my next escape I’d drive to Nana’s place in Navarre and spend the night. Today I’d just wanted to be alone.

  I had a plan for the year, at least. With my new position reporting for the school newsblog, my college applications were set. SAT scores would be in soon, and hopefully by this time next year I’d be entering Northwestern, the top journalism school in the country.

  That just left 365 days to endure.

  I exhaled, and as I stood staring far out at the horizon, I wished something exciting would happen to me. Just once. Something to take my mind off the monotony or at least make my life a little more interesting.

  No chance of that in this tiny town of less than ten thousand full-time residents.

  A lifeguard had arrived when I walked back to gather my stuff. All the public beaches had them, and they were usually savage-tanned college guys perched in the tall-wooden booths under the beach warning flags. Yellow today. Moderate hazard.

  I watched him scan the sunbathers. He was dark with a perfect body—a requirement for life guarding here, it seemed. At this time of year he had to be a local, but I didn’t know him.

  “Hey,” I called up.

  He looked down at me, eyebrows pulled together. “Whatcha need, kid?”

  Some joke. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen, and I’d be eighteen in a few months.

  “Are you B.J.?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “A girl…” I started, and then wondered what I was even doing. “I just thought I recognized you.”

  He looked at me like I’d had too much sun. Maybe I had. I shrugged and walked away, thinking they should’ve waited. Not that it mattered to me.

  Beach escape had ended. It was time to face my life back on shore.

  * * *

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  About Leigh Talbert Moore

  Leigh Talbert Moore is a wife and mom by day, a writer by day, a reader by day, a former journalist, a former editor, a chocoholic, a caffeine addict, a lover of great love stories, a beach bum, and occasionally she sleeps.

  Books by Leigh Talbert Moore:

  Dragonfly, Book 1 in the Dragonfly series (2013) – FREE as an eBook!

  Undertow, Book 2 in the Dragonfly series (2013)

  Watercolor, Book 3 in the Dragonfly series (2013)

  Mosaic, Book 4/Final in the Dragonfly series (2014)

  The Truth About Faking (2012) –FREE to KU members!

  Rouge (2012) – FREE to KU members!

  The Truth About Letting Go (2013) – FREE to KU members!

  Behind the Stars (2014) – FREE to KU members!

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  Taking the Reins

  * * *

  The
Rosewoods, Book 1

  * * *

  by

  Katrina Abbott

  Copyright © 2015 by Katrina Abbott

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Book Description

  Brooklyn Prescott (if that's even her real name) is the new girl at The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence, now that she's moved back to the States after two years living in London. Rosewood, a boarding school for children of the rich and famous and known for its celebutantes, is missing just one element important to any junior's education: boys. But luckily for Brooklyn, and the rest of the Rosewood girls, there's a boys' boarding school, The Westwood Academy, just a few miles away.

  * * *

  On her very first day, Brooklyn meets Will, a gorgeous and flirty boy on campus to help with move in. But is he who she thinks he is? And what about Brady, the cute stable boy? Or Jared, the former child actor with his grown-up good looks who can always make her laugh? As Brooklyn settles in at Rosewood, she's faced with new friends, new challenges and new opportunities to make herself into the girl she always wanted to be. Whoever that might be.

  Brooklyn

  I stood there with the horse, petting his velvet nose, trying to absorb his quiet calm to help ease my jangling nerves.

  It worked a little, until he returned, striding toward the outdoor arena, looking amazingly sexy in his riding outfit. Suddenly, like he was on a mission, he walked straight up to me. His eyes burned into mine and when he didn’t stop a few feet away, I began to panic.

  Because I was suddenly sure he was going to grab me and kiss me.

  My lungs froze on a breath. My heart began to race.

  And then he stopped right in front of me, inside my bubble and close enough that I could smell him; leather, saddle soap, boy.

  I looked up at him. His lips were turned up in a slight smile and then they parted. He reached up toward my face, his eyes taking me in with his usual intensity. My cheeks flushed, but ached for his touch. I licked my dry lips and swallowed, suddenly worried about too much saliva. I did not want to ruin this kiss. My eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in.

  Taking the Reins

  * * *

  The Rosewoods, Book 1

  * * *

  by

  Katrina Abbott

  * * *

  Over The Cliff Publishing, 2014

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  First edition. January 28, 2014

  * * *

  Copyright © 2014 Katrina Abbott

  Written by Katrina Abbott

  For Steven,

  who stole my underwear once.

  Welcome to Rosewood

  I should have felt insulated and safe in the back of the Town Car.

  Instead, my heart was pounding like crazy as the driver pulled into the long circular drive that would bring me to the front of the Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence—my new home for the next ten months. The windows of the car were tinted, so no one could see in, but as I was in one of several limos (mixed in with Range Rovers, Audis, Mercedes' and other cars of the famous and wealthy), no one really paid attention. And, gauging by the chaos on the front lawn of the school campus—registration, moving in, laughing and getting reacquainted—people were too wrapped up in their own stuff to notice a new girl, anyway.

  The new girl.

  I sighed and gave myself a couple moments to calm my nerves as the driver rolled to a stop at the curb. I took my long brown hair out of the ponytail holder, then second-guessed and put it back in again. Then realized it would look sloppy to have a ponytail, so I took it out one last time.

  God, Brooklyn, get it together.

  The driver put the car into park, turned halfway toward me and smiled. “This is it.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glancing out at the crowd. There were several tables, including one with a banner that read, “Check in. Come here first.” Brilliant. At least that part was sorted. The fitting in and making friends part couldn’t possibly be quite so easy.

  “It will be fine,” the driver assured me, as though he was reading my mind and standing in as my father or something, making me feel guilty that I’d forgotten his name already. “I hear it’s a good school.”

  I almost snorted at his comment; Rosewood wasn’t a good school. Rosewood was the best school. The school governors and celebrities send their kids to. The place where no one asks how much the tuition is, because if you send your kid here, you can afford whatever it is and don’t care what it costs, as long as your child is getting the best education money can buy. Of course, this isn’t what the brochure says, it’s what I heard my dad tell my grandmother when he phoned to tell her he was sending me back to the States. He said he didn’t feel I was getting a quality education at my last school in London. Which is kind of ridiculous, because I’m pretty sure the Brits invented proper education, right?

  Looking up at the big building now, I had seriously mixed feelings; I’d never been a huge fan of the school in London or maybe being in London altogether, and getting away from my parents was a distinct benefit. They were still there; probably it would be another year before they would move back to the States (though they promised to come for Christmas). But I knew exactly no one here at this school, and my old friends from before I left the U.S. were states away in Colorado, not exactly close enough to meet up for pizza on the weekend. And anyway, after two years away, we probably weren’t really friends anymore. We’d become what Mom called “Christmas Card Friends”—meaning we caught up like once a year and didn’t care for the other three-sixty-four.

  At least in London I had some friends. Not super close ones, but still, friends I’d had to leave behind and would probably never see again who would also become “Christmas Card Friends”. At least I didn’t have a boyfriend I had to worry about leaving. No, leaving a boy behind had never been an issue for me; on the contrary, I was pretty much boy-repellent. Not that I was ugly or anything, I just wasn’t the fun girl or the popular girl. I was the plain girl: brown hair and eyes, a few freckles across my nose, average build. Not overly smart, not overly pretty: the girl no one noticed.

  But as I looked out at the crowd consisting of what would be my fellow students, I thought maybe I could change that. Maybe this would be the opportunity to reinvent myself that I’d been too chicken to take when we moved to London. Back then, I’d been shy and insecure; starting at a new school in a different country will do that. But now, I was back on home soil and could, as Dad would say, ‘fake it till I made it’. And since Dad had paid whatever ridiculous amount of tuition it had cost to send me here, I had just as much right to be here as anyone else. I had no reason to be insecure or feel like I didn’t belong here.

  We came from old money that had little to do with my dad, even though he was a high ranking military strategist and probably made a lot of money at it. I think my coming back to the States for school had more to do with that than my education. A lot of Dad’s job is classified, and based on all the recent late night and closed-door whispering on the phone and with Mom, I got the impression he was going out on a very classified assignment. My brother Robert, older by almost three years, was already far away at Yale doing his MBA, so I was their most immediate concern.

  It would be easy for me to take it personally that they were sending me away, but I knew a lot of what they did was for my own safety. It had always been that way for Robert and me.

  We weren’t even allowed to use our real last name; Dad said if terrorists or other bad people knew who we were, they could use us to get to him and that made us a liability. I was so used to having a fake last name, I barely remembered my real one anymore.r />
  It sounds cool and all spy-thriller, but trust me, after seventeen years of growing up with a military strategist, I knew it was mostly meetings, sitting around, and waiting for stuff to happen that almost never does. I can’t talk about what assignments my dad has been on, but some of them were really big deals that were sort of world security things. But even those required a lot of sitting around and meetings.

  Still, despite my dad’s cool-sounding job, I was certainly no celebutante, although thinking about how I might actually end up rooming with one made my right eye twitch. But there was nothing for it and I couldn’t stay in the Town Car forever.

  Even as I thought this, the trunk popped open behind me.

  I took a breath.

  “Let me help you with your things,” the driver said, getting out of the front seat and hurrying to open my door. As I stepped out onto the driveway with my backpack and my carry-on suitcase, he moved to the back of the car, grunting as he hauled out my steamer trunk. I looked around for a cart or something, suddenly worried that this poor man was going to have to haul my year’s worth of clothes up what looked like at least fifteen stairs just to get to the main floor door. I had no idea where my room might be, but I hoped The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence had an elevator if it was anything beyond the ground floor.

  It was the least the school could do, since it was lacking the one thing I argued with my parents was the most essential requirement to a girl’s social development: boys.