Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  “Where are you?” I asked again allowing my voice to shake. I didn’t want to do this without Brenton there. I was strong on my own, but I needed his strength to get through this, I needed him here.

  “Figuring out a way to get to Midland. Baby, you have to go to the hospital okay. Listen to Ryder and your brother. I love you but get in the damn truck.”

  In the seconds it took for me to glance between the two staring at me Brenton was already talking again.

  “Get your fine ass off the couch.” The clear command in his tone, one I loved in the bedroom, struck home.

  “Big ass,” I grumbled back.

  “My ass. Now up.”

  Reaching out a hand to Bradley I grunted as he pulled me up. An arm wrapped around my waist he held me steady until I had my balance.

  “Okay, okay I’m going. So bossy.” My smirk dropped as I doubled over with a curse at the sharp cramping around my middle. The phone tumbled to the floor.

  “Beka,” Ryder yelled. Her small arm wrapped under my shoulders and urged me toward the door. “I hope you packed good snacks in your overnight bag. You’re stressing me the fuck out.”

  Even though the pain I couldn’t help but laugh.

  From the cowskin rug, Brenton’s bellowing voice called out to me.

  “Get the phone,” I said between deep breaths. “Before B strokes out.”

  As Ryder ushered me toward the door mumbling a string of curse words I heard Bradley telling Brenton what was going on. Once outside Ryder and I stopped at the top of the stairs knowing full well we should wait for Bradley in case I toppled forward–I was a little top heavy these days.

  “He’s on his way,” Bradley stated and tucked his shoulder beneath mine. “Don’t worry, knowing your husband he’ll break every law out there to get to you in time.”

  “And if not you’ll have me,” Ryder grunted as she shoved me into the truck. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “This shit is legit,” I said to the ceiling.

  “See aren’t you glad we forced you to come to the hospital?” Ryder squeezed her tiny hand around mine. “He’ll get here don’t worry.”

  I glanced at the clock. It’d been thirty minutes since the epidural, over an hour since we checked in.

  A faint knock at the door drew our attention as my OBGYN walked in.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked and gripped the hand, not in Ryder’s.

  “Better, that drug shit is amazing.”

  He just chuckled and patted my hand before looking at the monitors. “Doesn’t look like you’ve had any recent contractions. Sometimes the epidural can slow down the process at first, but it will pick back up soon. First ones take the longest dear so be patient.”

  With that, he scribbled a few of notes on my chart and shuffled out of the room.

  I smiled at the ceiling. Baby Grace wanted her daddy here, so she slowed her roll.

  “Be patient, little lady, he’s on his way,” I whispered and closed my eyes.

  Deep breaths in and deep breaths out.

  Stay calm, and Grace will be calm.

  Easy.

  Until it wasn’t.

  “What are you telling me?” I asked my doctor looking between him, Bradley and Ryder. Two hours later and Brenton still wasn’t there and, to top off my stress, Grace was sending mixed signals on the monitor.

  “I’m telling you to get your head around an emergency C-section Mrs. Graves. Because there is a good chance, it will happen. Your baby’s heart rate keeps rising, but you’re not far enough along for you to push her out the old-fashioned way. I’ll come to check on you in ten.”

  As he walked out the door, he yelled at a nurse walking by to prepare an operating room.

  “This can’t be happening.” Tears streamed down my face splashing on to my paper thin gown. “Brenton, where are you?”

  “I’m here.”

  All eyes shifted from where I was having a mental breakdown in the hospital bed to the fatigues dressed–sexy as hell–man in the doorway.

  In two steps he was at my bedside and his lips pressed against my forehead.

  “You made it.”

  Smiling down he wiped away each tear focusing on me like I was the only person in the room. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Why are you crying? Are you in pain? Fucking doctors I’ll go get them to give you something-”

  I gripped his hand before he could storm out. “No, no pain. It’s Grace. I might need an emergency C-section because shes stressed, I’m fucking stressed, and I’m not ripe enough down there to push her out.”

  Brushing a few stray hairs from my face, he pressed his lips to mine. “Ryder, Bradley. Leave. I need a moment with my wife.”

  Damn, I loved that tone. So strong. So dominant. Even though I was already numb below the waist, just his voice relaxed my muscles and soothed my rising stress.

  After the two were gone Brenton dipped his hand beneath the cheap blanket to rub his calloused hand along my belly.

  “Our baby,” he whispered.

  “Our baby.”

  “You’re doing great baby, relax. I’m here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you or her.” Leaning down he moved the blanket down and my gown up exposing my belly. “And you little lady calm down in there. I’m here now so no more waiting. Daddy is here.”

  Long, soothing strokes of his fingertips along my stomach calmed her and me.

  “Now I’m going to find the doctors, find out what's going on, and make sure they know who you are.”

  A twinge of pain shot up my spine. I looked at the monitors showing I had a strong contraction that I couldn’t feel – thank you drugs.

  “And who am I?” I asked taking a deep breath.

  “You’re everything Beks. You and this little girl right here. You two are my world, and they need to know that.”

  “Brenton,” I said and gripped his hand tight. “Something is happening.”

  Brows furrowed he watched me for a second before realization clicked in.

  “I’ll go get the doc-”

  My OBGYN barged through the door cutting him off. “Okay, Mrs. Graves we have OR-” At the sight of Brenton he paused. “Mr. Graves glad you could make it.”

  “Something is happening,” I said. “Can you check me one more time?”

  He nodded.

  After the quick check, he slid the latex glove off and tossed it in the trash. “Guess you both were waiting on him to get here. Let me grab a nurse; then it’s time to push.”

  Ten minutes, and a lot of sweat and curse words later, the doctor placed a bright red baby girl on my chest. “Congratulations you two.”

  All around us the doctor continued to work and the nurses scurried around, but Brenton and my attention were on the precious creature we made.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Just like her mom,” Brenton sniffled as he ran a hand over her gloopy head. “Damn you’re amazing Beks. She’s perfect.”

  Against my bare chest Grace wiggled with her eyes sealed shut.

  “Rebeka.”

  Hesitantly I took my eyes off my baby girl and looked to B.

  “It’s not your choice anymore. You and Grace are coming back to Kentucky with me until I finish up my contract with the army. No more of this long distance shit. You, me, and her together from now on.”

  “Okay,” I said with a broad smile.

  He eyed me suspiciously. “Okay? No pushback?”

  “I don’t want to be away from you either. And…” With a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, I pulled him down to press my lips against his ear. “When I’m all healed down there that’s when I’ll give you push back. Where’s the fun in it if my sass isn’t returned with your hand across my ass?”

  His loud laugh made everyone turn their attention to us.

  But we didn’t care.

  Eyes locked with each other. Hands resting on our new beautiful baby girl. We didn’t care about anything other than us — our little
family.

  “I love you, Mrs. Graves. Forever.”

  “And I love you too, Mr. Graves. Forever.”

  The End

  Ackowldegements

  I always save this part to the last and here I am a few hours from publication writing the acknowledgements. So here we go…

  I started writing because of my two favorite alpha readers – Emily and Christine. You two are everything in this writing process. It’s you who makes me want to write the next book and keep you guessing each morning with new chapters. Thank you for supporting me in all this. All the late night texts, last minutes pages, and anxiety laced calls – you’ve walked me through them all. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. With out you two all these stories would be stuck in my head.

  And of course my sweet friend Kristin. I love how excited you are about new chapters (and new hero’s) as much as I am. Thank you for reading even when your four are driving you crazy I know you don’t have the time but you make it for me and I love you for it. Thank you.

  There are so many people who support us along the way from editors, to author friends to bloggers. No one is less important. To all of you who’ve encouraged me, thank you. All the random texts or insta messages mean everything to me. The fact you even read my books is amazing! Thank you for all that you do for me and all the other indie authors out there.

  To everyone reading out there, thank you. The fact you’re reading something I created in my head is… beyond words. I never expected this life but I’m damn glad it found me.

  Copyright

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright Magnificent D © 2016 Lili Valente

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This erotic romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This e-book is licensed for your personal use only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional romantic comedies featuring alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Cover design by Steamy Designs. Editorial services provided by Leone Editorial.

  About the Book

  F*ck Prince Charming. Sometimes, you need a Magnificent Bastard.

  Face it, ladies: love sucks and then you cry…while your ex rides off into the sunset banging your best friend.

  But why let a break-up end in tears when it can end with sweet revenge? Enter Magnificent Bastard Consulting and me, chief executive bastard. I’ve got it all—looks, brains, a heart of gold, and the killer instinct guaran-damn-teed to make your ex regret the day he said goodbye.

  With the help of my virtual assistant, I’ve built an empire giving broken-hearted women the vengeance they deserve, while keeping myself far from the front lines of the heart. Life is a bowl of cherries, until my virtual assistant shows up on my real doorstep for the first time, begging for a Magnificent Bastard intervention of her own.

  Damn… She’s a bona fide sex kitten.

  I pride myself on being a true pro, but pretending to be her lover soon leads to giving it to her good, hard, fast, and up against the wall. And somewhere between getting balls deep in my sweet and sexy assistant and watching her ex beg for a second chance, I break every last one of my damn rules—professional and personal.

  So what’s my next move? Fight for the girl who makes me want to get up on a white horse and ride to her rescue, or stay a Magnificent Bastard to the end?

  Prologue

  Picture this: it’s a rainy spring day in the city. The streets are covered with a fine layer of mud and soggy garbage, the sun is a distant memory from another, brighter time when you were still stupid enough to believe in happy endings, and you’ve just been dumped so hard your heart looks like it’s gone three rounds with Mike Tyson.

  You’re ugly crying in a corner with a box of wine and a chocolate bar the size of your forearm, wishing Prince Charming would come swoop you up on his white horse and carry you far away from all those nasty memories of Mr. Wrong, but I’m here to tell you, ladies—

  You need to stop that shit.

  Stop it. Right now.

  Why? Because Prince Charming is a crock of shit. Like unicorns, mermen, and other fairy tale creatures, he doesn’t exist.

  When you’re down and out and your heart has been ripped to shreds by an asshole with a dickish-side a mile wide, you don’t need Prince Charming. You need a man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, a man who can teach Mr. Wrong a thing or two about what it feels like to be deceived, betrayed, and laid low by the one person in the world you thought you could trust. What you need is a Magnificent Bastard, your very own one-man vengeance machine.

  Love isn’t a fairy tale, sweetheart; it’s war, and now you’ve got a soldier with an anti-asshole missile on your side.

  Want to ruin your ex’s reputation? No problem. Every true asshole has a few skeletons in his closet and I specialize in spring cleaning. Want to send that human come stain to jail? A little harder, but often still possible. I only accept cases involving the very worst examples of mankind, the most miserable liars, cheats, and scoundrels. Truly terrible people tend to be good at covering their tracks, but I’ve delivered exes in cuffs before.

  Want to make your former lover green with envy? Make him wish he’d never kicked you off the love wagon, spat in your face, and walked away? Well, that, cupcake…

  That’s what I’m best at.

  I’ve been blessed with a face that turns heads, worked hard for a body that inspires shudders of lust at twenty paces, and honed my envy-inspiring skills into a razor sharp weapon I wield with ruthless efficiency. I will make you feel like a queen and ensure your ex doesn’t miss a minute of it. You’ll be treated like a treasure, pampered like a princess, and kissed like a slut who can’t get enough of my magnificent dick.

  In reality, of course, things between us will never go further than a kiss, but your ex won’t know that. He’ll see your flushed cheeks, lust-glazed eyes, and wobbly legs and think I’m giving it to you hard every night.

  He’ll imagine my hands on your ass, my fingers slipping between your legs, and your pussy slick just for me. He’ll imagine you screaming my name while you ride my cock and remember all the times he was lucky enough to be balls deep in your incomparable snatch. Before long, he’ll have a jealousy hard-on so bad he’ll come crawling back to you on his belly, begging for a second chance.

  But you won’t give it to him.

  Did you hear that?

  Even so, it bears repeating—

  You. Will not. Give that loser a second chance.

  By the time I’m through with you, you will know deep down in the marrow of your bones that you’re better than that. You’ll realize that you deserve a man whose eyes won’t wander, whose hands won’t hurt, and whose heart belongs to you and only you. You’ll be able to look down at the sniveling, pathetic, limp-dicked excuse for a man you used to love and tell him that he has no power over you.

  Not anymore. Now you’re free to move on with your life without any of the bad breakup, psychic baggage.

  And that, gorgeous, is the most important of the services I deliver. I give you back to you, the only person who can be tru
sted to steer your course as you ride off into the sunset.

  But if for some reason, you break this all-important rule, if you sour the gift you’ve been given by going back to Major Dickweed, don’t bother contacting me again. No amount of money will convince me to pick up the phone.

  A Magnificent Bastard intervention is a once in a lifetime opportunity. One and done, no exceptions.

  None.

  Not even for her, the woman who made me break all my rules, the woman who made me think—for one amazing week—that even magnificent bastards can live happily ever after.

  1

  From the e-mail archives of Sebastian “Bash” Prince and Penny Pickett

  From: MagnificentBastard1

  To: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  Re: Two-Year Anniversary

  What’s up Buttercup?

  Congratulations on surviving two years of ten-a-day e-mails, late night phone calls, crazy client vetting interviews, and general insanity. When I first sent out a call for a virtual assistant, I had no idea I’d end up with someone like you. You make the work possible and ten times better.

  They said we couldn’t do it, kid, but last I checked, we were laughing all the way to the bank.

  Speaking of the bank, check your PayPal account for a token of my appreciation.

  Here’s to another year of kicking ass and taking names,

  Bash

  From: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  To: MagnificentBastard1

  Re: Two-Year Anniversary

  Dear Bash,

  I’m pretty sure you were drunk when you sent that bonus, but ha ha joke’s on you, I’m not giving it back!

  But seriously, thank you for your generosity and your trust. I know it was a leap of faith to hire a cultural anthropologist with close to zero employment history as your assistant, and I appreciate it.