WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition

by Scott, D. D.

  “A stiff? As in a dead body?” I asked, well aware of what the term meant. After all, I’d been a crime thriller editor for over a decade now.

  “Not just any stiff either,” Nicky said as he approached me and Molly.

  “What do you mean? You know the vic?” I asked.

  “So do you.”

  “I do?”

  “It’s Jack Collins.”

  I gasped, taking in way too much of the frigid cold air, and immediately began choking. I doubled over, unable to regain composure.

  Nicky shielded me with his body from the icy blasts of wind that just wouldn’t stop and began to rub my back.

  “You okay, Allwitch?”

  “No. Not really,” I managed to get out between damn near hyperventilating breaths.

  “Yeah. Me either. This doesn’t look good.”

  “I don’t get it. Why would Jack Collins, the Number One New York Times and Amazon Bestselling Author be here? In northern Indiana, in a blizzard, dead in your chicken coop?”

  “Maybe because I’m Number Two on those same bestseller lists,” Nicky said in an eerie tone just like Castle does when beginning to spin theories for Beckett.

  “Doesn’t he live in LA?” I asked, shivering uncontrollably, and not just from the blasts of wind damn near knocking us over.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Yeah. I got that,” I said, sometimes still taken aback a bit by the morbid humor of the crime thriller world. “Do you think you’re next?”

  “No, I think whoever killed Jack wants people to think I offed him to get to Number One.”

  “Oh. Now that’s bad. And it’s only going to look worse when the police put together who he is and who’s farm he was found on.”

  Nicky just nodded his head and helped me back up the hill toward the house.

  I looked around for Molly, who I’d actually forgotten about. She must have already gone back into the house to call the police.

  “For the record, I’d definitely take being stuck with a schmuck over a stiff,” I said, knowing this wasn’t the time for more morbid humor, but really not knowing what else to say.

  “I hear yeah, Partner. And thanks. But evidently, you’re not the only one who thinks I’m a schmuck.”

  THE END…

  WELL…NOT REALLY…

  To Be Continued in The Samantha Aldredge Chronicles #1

  STUCK WITH A STIFF…coming in Spring 2012.

  NOTE FROM D. D. SCOTT

  Welcome to my new Samantha Aldredge Chronicles!

  For all you superfab Castle fans out there…

  The Samantha Aldredge Chronicles are –

  Castle gone-country

  This Spring, the first full-length Samantha Aldredge Chronicle – STUCK WITH A STIFF – will release, where y’all will find out how that body got in Nicky Blaine’s chicken coop as well as who dumped it there to frame Nicky.

  In the mean time, I’ve also got another super-sonic thrill-ride of a Cozy Cash Mystery for you to enjoy – CARATS AND COCONUTS – featuring Samantha’s cousin Zoey Witherspoon and her for-real prince-of-a-mate Roman Bellesconi.

  And in case you’re brand new to my Bootscootin’, Cozy Cash and Samantha Aldredge Mystery Worlds, start with my Bestselling Boxed Set, which includes my first 6 books for just $2.99!

  Happy Reading and Welcome to My Bootscootin’, Cozy Cash and Samantha Aldredge Worlds! — D. D. Scott

  ABOUT D.D. SCOTT

  D. D. Scott is a Bestselling Romantic Comedy and Humorous Mystery Author and a Writer’s Go-To-Gal for Muse Therapy, plus the #1 Amazon Bestselling Author of Muse Therapy: Unleashing Your Inner Sybil and the co-founder of The Writer’s Guide to E-Publishing, your destination site for Everything E-Publishing. You can get all the scoop on her, her books, her Muse Therapy Online Classes and Live Workshops, plus juicy tidbits too from D. D. Scott-ville http://ddscottville.blogspot.com .

  Her bestselling romantic comedies are all about sexy, sassy, smart, career-driven women and the men who complete them. They’re a bit chick lit with a gone-country twist…and now a humorous mystery, comedic caper twist too. She’s agented, and her Bootscootin’ Books — think Sex and The City meets Urban Cowboy — debuted August 2010, on Amazon’s Kindle, Barnes & Noble’s Nook and at Smashwords, with BOOTSCOOTIN’ BLAHNIKS, followed by STOMPIN’ ON STETSONS and BUCKLES ME BABY. Now, The Bootscootin’ Characters are gettin’ “cozy”…as in Comedic Caper cozy, with the release of THUG GUARD and LIP GLOCK, Books One and Two of her new, Cozy Cash Mysteries, featuring all of your fave Bootscootin’ characters plus tons of quirky new characters too.

  She’s been both a featured author and her books have been top picks — including one of the Top 10 Books for Mother’s Day 2010 — for such superfab Ereader-centric Blogs as Kindle Nation Daily, Pixel of Ink, The Frugal eReader, Indie Books List, Only Romance, Bargain eBooks, and coming soon, a featured spot on Ereader News Today. Her blog posts on the Indie Epub World have been picked-up by fantabulous blogs like Bufo Calvin’s I Love My Kindle. She can be spotted all-week long on her new grog The WG2E, a writer’s destination site for all-things-Epublishing. She often can also be found hangin’ on both the Kindle and Nook Boards and has an active blog of her own on her website at http://ddscottville.blogspot.com .

  Also a Writer’s Go-to-Gal for Muse Therapy and now the Amazon #1 Bestselling Author of MUSE THERAPY: UNLEASHING YOUR INNER SYBIL, D. D. debuted her Muse Therapy Online Classes in 2009 and her Live Workshops in 2010. Thanks to the fabulous endorsement of Stephen Windwalker’s Kindle Nation Daily, there’s a ton more fun and fascinating MUSE THERAPY adventures in development.

  D. D.’s first two short stories — The Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries — FLUID FULFILLMENT and LICENSED FOR LOVE — released in October 2011, and the first Cozy Cash Mystery Christmas Novella HULLABALOO AND HOLLY TOO came out in November 2011 as part of the MADNESS UNDER THE MISTLETOE Christmas Anthology. The D. D. Scott Special Edition Ebook Boxed Set followed in December 2011 and included all three Bootscootin’ Books plus the first two Cozy Cash Mysteries. D.D.’s busy now writing her third Cozy Cash Mystery CARATS & COCONUTS, which will release in January 2012 along with a total of 16 additional releases throughout 2012.

  Declaring 2011 to be “The Year of the E-Book & Cross-Pollination”, D. D. co-founded and launched The Writer’s Guide to E-Publishing (http://thewritersguidetoepublishing.com), your destination site for Everything E-Publishing. Whatever you want to know and/or cuss and discuss about E-publishing, it’s right there at The WG2E waiting for you!

  When she’s not writing, she’s busy luuuvin’ on her real-life hero “Sweet Man” and their beloved shelter-rescued dog Buckley and his new playmate Siggy the Affenpinscher.

  For updates on her books, her sexy, sassy, smart neurotic writer’s life blog, and for a schedule of her appearances and Muse Therapy Sessions, visit her website http://ddscottville.blogspot.com.

  You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me

  By Talli Roland

  ‘Twelve dozen roses, please. The red ones.’ The man wiped his flushed face, then pointed to a bucket of wilting flowers.

  Olivia forced a smile, biting back a response that a dozen was twelve, so if he wanted twelve dozen, that would equal … Well, it would equal one hell of a lot of roses. Possibly way more than they had in Spence’s Supermarket, even today when they’d ordered in extra to meet the Valentine’s rush.

  The man shot her a shy smile as she tried in vain to fish twelve fresh-looking roses from the bucket.

  ‘This is my first Valentine’s Day with my girlfriend,’ he said. ‘I want to make it extra special.’

  Olivia nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. A glob of slimy green water dripped from a rose’s stem onto her beige trousers, and frustration swirled inside. Great – now she’d have to change before Jonathan got home, just on the off chance he’d planned something for tonight. She knew that in all likelihood, he’d be tired and stressed after a long day at work, seeking the comfort of the so
fa and the latest football match replays. But maybe this year would be the one when he’d finally present her with a bouquet of flowers – one of those expensive arrangements, tied with a satin bow; nothing like these second-rate roses – and take her chin in the way that made her heart flip over, look into her eyes … and finally, finally say he loved her? Two years they’d been together, and she’d yet to hear those three little words.

  ‘Er, how much?’ the man in front of her stammered. Olivia gave herself a little shake, realising she was just standing there holding out the stems.

  ‘That will be sixty pounds, please.’ Obscene, really, given these flowers would probably be curling up and brown by tomorrow. Still, it was the gesture that counted, right?

  Or was it? Olivia chewed her lower lip as she watched the man scurry out through the shop’s sliding doors to the busy London street. Jonathan did loads of little things that showed he loved her. Every morning, he made her coffee before she left for her shift at Spence’s. He always washed the dishes she left lying around in the sink, forgotten, and he was a star at vacuuming. Whenever she had a killer migraine, he was unfailingly kind and patient, endlessly bringing her wet towels to place on her pounding forehead. He did love her; she felt it all the time. So why oh why couldn’t he just say those three bloody words and get it over with?

  ‘Anything big planned for Valentine’s tonight?’ Her co-worker Tina waggled her eyebrows as she came to relieve Olivia from flower-stand duties.

  Olivia gathered up her tatty handbag and took a swipe at the glob on her trousers again. Nope, it looked like that spot was there to stay. ‘Oh, you know. The usual, I guess.’ She shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care. ‘You?’

  ‘My boyfriend just called!’ Tina said excitedly. ‘And when I’m off in a couple hours, he’s going to take me for a champagne ride on the London Eye. He’s rented a whole capsule just for us.’ She clasped her hands to her heart. ‘I can’t believe he did that. Do you know how much those things costs? I certainly got lucky with him.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Olivia said, hoping her words sounded more enthusiastic than begrudging. God, a champagne ride on the London Eye. On Valentine’s Day! In her mind’s eye, Olivia could imagine swooping up over the city, taking in Big Ben and Saint Paul’s as tiny bubbles tickled the back of her throat. Unexpectedly, tears pricked her eyes, and she dropped her head before Tina could notice. ‘Well, I’d better get home! See you later.’

  As she pushed through the crowds of shoppers on Camden High Street – every second man wielding a bouquet of flowers – toward the flat she shared with Jonathan, anger thumped inside, growing and growing with each step. She wasn’t asking for a champagne ride on a city landmark, as much as she’d like it. No, all she wanted was to hear that the man she loved – and the man she’d been living with for the past year – loved her! For God’s sake, that wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  Maybe … maybe the time had come to put a stake in the ground. To see how he really felt, for once and for all. She wasn’t going to hang around waiting any longer.

  Olivia swung open the door, full of determination. Good, it was still dark, which meant Jonathan hadn’t come back yet. She’d have a nice bath, pour herself a glass of wine, and when he returned she’d sit him down and ask – in a calm, cool voice without any hysterics – if he loved her. And if he didn’t? Olivia pushed the thought from her mind. He did. She knew he did. She just needed to hear it.

  As she hung up her coat, her ears cocked at a sound in the kitchen. ‘Jonathan?’ Was someone there?

  There was a crash and a bang, and then she heard him swearing. ‘Hi, hon!’

  What on earth was he doing? And why was he home already? Well, at least she could get this over with. Taking a deep breath, Olivia strode into the kitchen. ‘Jonathan, we need to talk. I —’ Her mouth flopped open mid-sentence as she took in the sight before her.

  Every dish they owned was spread out on the counter. Steam rose from something bubbling on the hob, while foamy liquid boiled over the sides of a pot, hissing as it met the hot burner. A strange smell tainted the air, something like … well, Olivia couldn’t even identify it. And in the midst of it all, her usually cool, calm boyfriend was darting from oven to counter and back again like a caffeinated gopher.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Olivia finally asked.

  Jonathan gave her a sheepish grin. ‘Making a mess of things. I wanted to cook you a nice dinner tonight. I know I’ve been a bit tied up with work lately, and, well … I wanted to make it up to you. I’ve been slaving away for hours here. But I’m afraid it’s better suited to the rubbish bin than our dinner table.’ He grimaced as he glanced around the kitchen. ‘What did you want to ask me?’ He came over and put his arms around her waist, drawing her up against him.

  Olivia looked into his eyes. Jonathan didn’t even seem to realise today was Valentine’s Day. Suddenly, all her anger and frustration drained away as it hit her that she didn’t need a special gesture on one day of the year. And she didn’t need to hear those three words, either. All she needed was the knowledge that Jonathan loved her enough to show it. Nothing he said could compete with that.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, resting her head on Jonathan’s solid chest. The thud of his heart filled her ear, and she smiled. ‘Actually, it’s more than okay. It’s perfect.’

  ABOUT TALLI ROLAND

  Talli Roland has three loves in her life: chick lit, coffee and wine. Born and raised in Canada, Talli now lives in London, where she savours the great cultural life (coffee and wine). Her debut novel, The Hating Game, was a bestseller and shortlisted for Best Romantic Read at the UK’s Festival of Romance, and her second, Watching Willow Watts, is a customer favourite. Build A Man is her latest release. Talli blogs here and can be found on Twitter here.

  YOU MAKE ME FEEL BRAND NEW

  By Chicki Brown

  Chapter One

  Who do you think you’re kidding? Jan Davis threw her car into gear and headed for GA400. You can’t possibly be considering this? He’s practically a boy, for crying out loud.

  “He’s not that young,” she protested out loud, as if someone were actually sitting in the front seat. “A lot of women are involved with younger men these days. If he’s interested in me, why shouldn’t I?”

  Because you’ll look foolish, that’s why. Act your age and don’t embarrass yourself, the voice warned.

  She slammed another fifty cents into the greedy gaping mouth of the tollbooth, annoyed at having to feed the DOT’s legalized slot machine.

  “Mmm, it was a nice thought anyway,” Jan answered her invisible accuser.

  The rest of the way home down I-75, she reflected on the events of the evening. From the moment she’d tied on her apron, Mac Sinclair’s piercing dark eyes followed her. At first she thought he simply wanted to see how she prepared the food, but when she caught his gaze trained on her legs and not her hands, she knew he wasn’t merely admiring her culinary skill. The thought that this young man, blessed with classic good looks and a Hershey’s Kiss chocolate complexion, found her attractive made her nervous and clumsy. He sat and studied her while she tried to keep her hands from shaking as she chopped onions and peppers for the sauce. Uneasy under his scrutiny, she decided to fill the silence with small talk.

  “How long have you been living here, Mac?”

  “A little over six months.” He stroked his smooth, clean-shaven face.

  “So, what do you think of Atlanta?”

  “Love it. I’d come here on business several times, so when my company offered me a promotion working in their Buckhead office, I left L.A. and made Atlanta my home.” He took the last sip of his Red Bull energy drink and flashed a devastating grin.

  My God, he’s fine! And he smells so good. Concentrate on what you’re doing, Jan. Don’t chop off any fingers. Calm down and try to keep from sounding like an idiot.

  Jan moved to the stove, sautéed the vegetables and continued the conversation. “Wh
at kind of work did you say you do?”

  “Sports management. I work with professional athletes negotiating their contracts and endorsement deals, setting up media interviews, arranging for etiquette training, bailing them out of jail. That kind of thing.”

  “Sounds interesting,” she said, admiring his smile. With such a lean, muscular body, he could easily be mistaken for an athlete himself.

  “It’s a nice way to make a living. Plus some great perks come with the job – season tickets, private party invitations, you know.”

  “No. I don’t. I wish I did.”

  “So, how did you get to be a personal chef, Ms. Davis?”

  “Please, call me Jan,” she said without looking up from stirring the food. “I’ve always loved to cook as a hobby. One day I read about a woman who’d left her accounting job to become a personal chef. It struck me as something I’d love doing, so I got my certification and started taking clients on the side. Once I saved up enough money to advertise, I placed a few ads in local papers, and things just took off. It got to the point where I couldn’t work days and also handle my clients. Eventually, I resigned from my job and started cooking full time.”

  “Pretty ambitious. How does your husband feel about it?”

  He would’ve hated the idea. He wanted a housewife, always ready and willing to feed his boring clients. It never crossed his mind to take them out sometimes. No, it had to be a gigantic home-cooked meal so they could see he married the black Rachel Ray. “I’m not married. I got divorced a year ago.”