The Boyfriend Diaries: A Romance Box Set Collection

by S. E. Law

  The End

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  Mommy’s Ex

  By S.E. Law

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  About This Book

  The brat lives under my roof, and as the man of the house, it’s my right to CLAIM.

  I’ve been watching the curvy girl for years now.

  Kayla was so tempting and luscious as she fluttered about the house with a smile and a wave.

  But then she went away to school, which was fine because I was married to her mom back then.

  Now, Victoria and I are divorced. It’s no big deal. We only got married so that I could get a green card to continue my successful medical practice. It was never anything real, and there were certainly no feelings.

  But now Kayla’s back in the house on a break from college …

  … She’s curvy

  … So sweet

  … Pure temptation

  … and I’m no longer married to Victoria.

  But will the brat consent to being mine?

  This short story is a forbidden, sweet and steamy story filled with an OVER THE TOP alpha male and a sassy, feisty girl with a strong will. HEA included.

  13

  Kayla

  Four years ago.

  “Kayla, I want you to meet my new boyfriend,” my mom sings from downstairs. “Come down, please.”

  I sigh. Victoria has always had a lot of boyfriends, and I’ve gotten used to meeting them. Since she divorced my dad when I was two, it seems like she’s had a different boyfriend every year, if not two or three or more per year.

  It’s easy to see why. My mom is lithe, svelte and very blonde with a curvy figure. She attracts men like bees to honey and likes to switch it up every now and then, both when it comes to hair color and men.

  So I schlump down the stairs. There’s no need to comb my hair or to put on a nice outfit. My jeans and a t-shirt are perfectly fine, thank you very much. Heck, this guy will probably be gone within a few months, so our interaction will likely be restricted to hello, nice to meet you, goodbye.

  As I go down the stairs, I cringe a bit. Our house is falling down around our ears, and yet there’s no money for repairs. We live in a little condo on the outskirts of Vegas, where my mom works as a cocktail waitress on the Strip. Yes, she’s that kind of cocktail waitress. The kind who wears obscenely short skirts with cleavage down to there, bringing drinks to men with the hope of making big tips. But Victoria doesn’t mind it because she likes the attention and enjoys prancing around in sky high heels with fishnet stockings. Sometimes I think even if she made zero tips, she would still be doing this job.

  The problem is that the money isn’t quite enough because Victoria doesn’t work at the Bellagio or one of fancy casinos. Instead, she works at the Silver Showdown, where they have fifteen dollar all-you-can-eat buffets and a clown who dances during breaks. As a result, the tips are small and our condo shows it. The stairwell is rickety and dark, and the kitchen has a dull yellow tile floor, along with a chandelier that looks like a wooden wheel that I think my mom got from the Silver Showdown. Unfortunately, it’s falling apart and hanging crazily to one side. The walls are a faded white, and paint’s peeling in some of the corners.

  But my mom isn’t embarrassed by the sad state of our home. In fact, she’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a bright smile on her face.

  “There you are, Kayla,” she scolds. “What took you so long? Were you reading a book again? You know what books do – you’ll ruin your eyesight reading that fine print, and then you’ll have to get glasses.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “It’s fine Mom. I was reading on my Kindle, and I make the font really big so that I don’t have eyestrain. Plus, you can change the contrast on the Kindle, so my eyes don’t have to work so hard.”

  “Well,” clucks my mom. “I’m just saying that you should be careful because you can’t work as a Vegas showgirl if you have glasses,” she chirps merrily.

  I stare at her. There is nothing less appealing to me than a career as a Vegas showgirl. Why would I want to get paid minimum wage to go up and dance in a chorus line with a bunch of other catty women? That sounds horrendous to me. Not to mention that I’m five foot three and curvy, which makes me the absolutely wrong shape for a professional showgirl.

  But everyone dreams their own dreams, and Victoria has always aspired to move up the rungs from waitress to showgirl. I don’t want to tell her that she’s probably too old to try out now, but there’s no sense in popping her bubble. Everyone deserves to cherish their own fantasies.

  But no matter. I’m here to shake hands with Victoria’s newest boyfriend before disappearing once more upstairs to read my latest romance novel. I’ve been perusing the latest Jamie Eden about a gorgeous cowboy on the range who seduces a visiting city girl. Western romances are the best because the heroines tend to be sassy and feisty, which I like. Not to mention I absolutely adore shirtless cowboys gleaming with sweat in the sun. Tyler McCarron is the ultimate alpha male with his leather chaps and worn-out boots, let me tell you.

  But I’m here to meet my mom’s latest boyfriend, so I force out all thoughts of handsome cowboys, and instead, slap a smile on my face. Grimacing like a corpse, I step into the foyer.

  “Honey, stand up straight won’t you? Kayla, let me introduce you to George,” titters my mom. “George, Kayla.”

  Time literally seems to stop in its tracks because my mom’s newest flame is gorgeous. I wasn’t expecting this in the least. Usually, Victoria’s boyfriends are somewhat scumbaggy, with lank hair, droopy mustaches, and tobacco-stained hands. Nothing like the man before me now.

  Maybe he’s not a cowboy, but he’s something else entirely. George is huge: at least six four with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long, powerful legs. What’s more, he’s wearing a sharply cut suit instead of the grungy plaid shirts and ripped-up jeans that my mom’s boyfriends usually sport.

  “Um hi,” I say, my heart stuttering. “I’m Kayla. Nice to meet you.”

  George’s smile is amused, and maybe even a little imperious.

  “Likewise,” he says in a deep, smooth voice. “George Pappanapolis.”

  I gape at him. Pappa what?

  He chuckles, seeing my confusion.

  “I’m Greek,” he says with a hint of a foreign accent. “I grew up in Europe, but came to practice medicine in the United States because of the incredible technology you have here. The research hospitals alone are a draw, with their wealth of resources and incredible amounts of money. You should be proud to be American,” he says to me. “You have access to the latest medical technologies.”

  My cheeks flare.

  “Oh, um,” I say like a dimwit. “I guess I never thought of that.”

  Oh god. I’m not an idiot, and yet I certainly feel like one right now. I should be more up-to-date with current events but there’s just too much going on, and the medical landscape changes constantly. When Obamacare was put in place, I was already confused. Then the government set up the health exchanges, and now they’re trying to rollback Obamacare, of all things. It’s a constantly shifting sea, and to be honest, I can’t keep up.

  “Yes, I’m glad to be American,” I repeat again, hanging my head like a nitwit. “So you’re from Greece?”

  Oh no, why did I say that? He just told me he’s Greek, so of course he’s from Greece. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me just about now.

  George merely laughs, throwing back his head to show off pearly white teeth. Wow, this
guy looks like a movie star, and not a doctor at all. His skin is bronzed like many men from the Mediterranean, and he has dark black hair but also ice blue eyes. It’s a devastating mix, and I bet he’s got so many women after him.

  So why is he with my mom? Yes, Victoria is hot but she’s about forty and getting raggedy around the edges with her too-harsh make-up and bleached blonde hair. He could get someone twenty years younger, at least. He could get any woman, of any age, come to think of it.

  George merely laughs.

  “Yes, I’m from Greece,” he acknowledges. “Where the gods sit on Mount Olympus to tell jokes while acting petty.”

  It’s my turn to giggle. I know a bit about Greek mythology and I’ve always loved how Greek gods bicker like children.

  “I know,” I say. “I especially like Dionysus because he’s half-man, half-goat, and likes to drink wine. Who wouldn’t want to be like him?”

  At that, my mom steps in.

  “What do you know about drinking wine, Kayla?” she sniffs. “One, you’re too young, and two, the stuff you and your friends have tasted is probably the cheap liquor. The drinks I serve my patrons at the casino is real high-class alcohol, and I know you haven’t had that.”

  I roll my eyes a little. Victoria loves me, but she’s a space case. My mom is so out of it that I bet if you asked her right now, she’d have no idea what grade I’m in.

  “Mom, they had some wine at Jerry Cohen’s bar mitzvah a couple years back,” I say glibly. “I tasted it there.”

  Of course, I’ve had more than the wine at Jerry’s bar mitzvah, but clearly, this isn’t the place to clue her in.

  “Oh that stuff!” Victoria says with a little wave of her hand. “Please, that’s not real drinking.”

  I roll my eyes subtly. Plenty of kids at Jerry’s bar mitzvah got tipsy from the spiked punch, but I guess Victoria wasn’t aware of that. Anyways, I don’t want to think about paunchy Jerry Cohen and his bar mitzvah right now. I want to find out about my mom’s new boyfriend. Why is George with her again? He’s insanely gorgeous and those blue eyes make me go hot all over as he laughs.

  “So how did you meet?” I ask, trying not to seem to curious. I’m sure it was on a dating site because that’s how my mom meets a lot of her boyfriends. But instead, Victoria surprises me.

  “Well, we only just met today,” she says. “I served him a drink at the bar, and we got to talking.”

  I squint a bit.

  “Only today?” I ask dumbly.

  George interjects then.

  “Yes, and I was swept away by this woman’s beauty,” he says. “We got to talking and realized that we had a lot in common, which is why I proposed to Victoria,” he said, lifting her left hand to show a dazzling sparkler on her ring finger.

  I gasp. Wait, events are taking place at light-speed. In fact, it’s incredible that it’s happening at all. I squint while trying not to show my surprise. The diamond on my mom’s hand must be at least five carats. What? Why would George propose to Victoria when he just met her? Why would he spend so much money on a ring for a woman he barely even knows?

  My mom titters, looking at the diamond.

  “Oh, Sofia will love this,” she coos. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. I can’t wait to show her.”

  I stop and stare at my mom for a moment. Sofia is a woman that my mom works with at the casino. Whereas my mom is blonde with a peaches and cream complexion, Sofia is exotic and darkly beautiful. She has perfectly arched eyebrows and blood-red lips, not to mention a figure to die for.

  At first, I figured my mom and Sofia were friends, or even rivals at work. Why not? They’re both attractive, middle-aged women, and probably enjoy one-upping each other at every chance they get. But my mom’s been talking a lot about Sofia lately. A little too much, to be honest. It’s always Sofia this, Sofia that, and didn’t Sofia look so good today? Just last week, Sofia spent the night at our house – in my mom’s room. I didn’t hear moans, but I did hear a lot of breathy sighs from behind closed doors.

  As a result, I’m beginning to think that my mom has entered a bisexual if not lesbian phase. Or maybe she was bisexual all along, and has only found the right person to express these desires with. Who knows? Everyone can change with time because sexuality is fluid.

  But how does George play into this? I’m utterly confused and my mind spins. One moment, I thought my mom was living a freewheeling life dating people of both sexes, but now she’s getting married to a man? The mystery has me utterly puzzled.

  But then George steps in, seeing the confusion on my face.

  “Kayla, Victoria has become very special to me for certain reasons. Of course, your mother is beautiful and gracious, but I also need to stay in the United States to continue my medical research. Unfortunately, my visa will be expiring, and we’re hoping that marriage to an American citizen can extend my time here.”

  I gasp a bit.

  “You’re getting a marriage of convenience?” I manage to stammer.

  Victoria jumps in.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. Well, maybe a little bit. Okay, yes. George and I will get married and stay married until he gets a green card, and then we can go our separate ways. It’s perfect, don’t you think? Who wouldn’t want a hunk of man like him?”

  The answer is obvious: someone who’s exploring her lesbian side. George smiles wanly at her.

  “Thanks, Victoria. But yes, your mother has agreed to help me out with my immigration status, and I’m deeply appreciative. In fact, I’ve already put a bid in on a house near the Strip, and we’re headed to the dealership soon, aren’t we? We’re going to lease you a brand-new car,” he says to my mom.

  Victoria squeals with glee.

  “Yes, let’s go to the Mercedes dealership. Or the Tesla. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  George turns to me.

  “I think you’ll like the house I put a bid on too, Kayla. It’s a huge Spanish colonial in a gated neighborhood, with a three-car garage and a huge, landscaped lawn outside. It’ll be nice living there. There will be enough space for all three of us to enjoy ourselves without bumping elbows all the time.”

  I stare, still somewhat speechless.

  “So we’re moving in with you?” I ask in a strangled voice.

  “Oh yes!” squeals Victoria. “This duplex is so dumpy, sweetheart, and I’m sorry I could never afford for us to move. But now with George as my husband, we’ll be able to live in the lap of luxury. He’s a very successful doctor, Kayla, and I think you’ll find him to be very generous.”

  I look over at the handsome man as he nods, his blue eyes giving nothing away. My heart starts pounding. Oh my gosh, I’m going to be living in close quarters with this man? I’ll see him coming out of the bathroom, dripping wet with only a towel around his waist? Holy cow. My body goes on red alert, and suddenly, my heart’s racing. I shouldn’t feel this way, and yet I do. Oh my gosh.

  But then Victoria tugs a bit on George’s arm.

  “Come on, introductions are over. Let’s get to the dealership, okay? I can’t wait to pick out my new car!”

  With one last flash of a smile, Victoria drags her new fiancé out the door where his gleaming sedan awaits.

  “The wedding is tomorrow,” he calls to me in a low voice. “The Little White Wedding Chapel at noon. See you then, Kayla.”

  I stare at them as they pull out of the driveway and squeal down the road. The silence afterwards is overwhelming. After all, my mom just introduced me to her fiancé, who is an absolutely ravishing Greek physician.

  But this isn’t a normal marriage. This is a marriage of convenience, where he gets a green card and she gets a lifestyle upgrade. Not only that, but my mom is likely bisexual, and is using this opportunity to explore her lesbian fantasies, probably with George’s approval.

  This is so crazy. This isn’t what happens to normal people at all. But the worst part is that I’m attracted to the new man of the house. How can I not be? He’s so alpha
with his piercing blue eyes and imposing frame. But how is this going to work? I’m soon going to be his stepdaughter, which makes things absolutely forbidden. With a rush of confusion, I shake my head and re-enter the condo.

  14

  George

  Victoria steps into the Little White Wedding Chapel and instead of doing somersaults, my heart sinks. We’re getting married. This is my bride, and I should be happy but instead, all I feel is dread.

  However, I force a smile onto my face. Victoria is merely a means to an end, I remind myself. She’s the way you’re going to be able to stay in this country and practice the kind of medicine that you want to practice. She’s your ticket to the Promised Land.

  After all, I’m a Greek national. My country a beautiful one with fertile soil; ripe and bountiful olive trees; blue skies scattered with fluffy clouds; and the gorgeous stormy grey of the sea. However, Greece is also a place that’s come under intense financial pressure in the last forty years. First, it was war, but then there were all sorts of indignities of our own making. The deal with the American banks. Our entry into the Eurozone. Heck, even our entry into the European Union has been a source of strain, and as a result, my home country is falling into tatters.

  That’s why I left. To practice medicine, and I mean real medicine, and not the techniques of thirty years ago. Unfortunately, Greece is stuck in the past. At this point, my country is filled crumbling hospitals and the equipment that you see in old-timey movies where they practically hiss and spit steam. It’s cute when you’re watching it on screen, but it’s a lot less cute when there’s a patient screaming bloody murder because they’re in real pain.