Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  Guissepi Roma had been a friend of her family for years, and she would not be intimidated. Sashaying into his grocery store, Abbie found the man in the back and smiled. “Uncle Guissepi!” she yelled, her arms flung wide.

  “Uncle?” Nathan choked.

  “Abigail, I heard you were married.” Guissepi kissed Abbie on her cheek before noticing Nathan behind her. “Nathan, I will be with you momentarily.” He focused on Abbie once again. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Nathan is my husband, and I came to talk business.” Her grin widened as his eyes grew.

  “Abigail, why don’t you let us men talk?” Guissepi gently ordered.

  Shaking her head, she snickered. “I don’t think so. You will be dealing with me from now on. May we go to your office?”

  “Abigail,” he spoke her name in warning.

  She leaned in close so that no one could overhear what she had to say. “You know how much you loved Papa’s whiskey? I can promise you ours is better.” Pulling back, she kissed his cheek. “What is your answer? Do we catch up on old times, or are you too busy for my husband and me?”

  He narrowed his eyes, but finally relented. “Come.” Passing by a younger version of himself, he said, “Watch the store.”

  When Abbie walked out of the store, her arm linked with Nathan’s, she’d successfully negotiated to get double the amount they were before. No one stood in her way.

  Chapter 7

  Mavis

  “Double? Really, Grandma?” Mavis had grown up hearing stories about her grandparents and their illegal still, but to hear how it all began, to hear how their marriage began, shocked her. They’d always been so in love, and she never realized her grandfather had not been the older woman’s first love.

  “Double.” Abbie nodded her head once.

  “Wasn’t Guissepi Roma a notorious mob boss who was known as John Roma?”

  Abbie grinned. “He was, but he always had a soft spot for me, Chickpea. Not sure why.”

  “So, no cement shoes, no being gunned down, nothing like that?” Mavis questioned, intrigued.

  “Well, your great-grandmother shot her toe off, but that was an accident. She was an idiot who didn’t need to be handling a gun. She thought she was scaring a trespasser and scared herself.”

  “Is that when Uncle Samuel was visiting?”

  “It is. We did have a trespasser, but it was the next day. The damn man was trying to steal one of our horses and had pushed Samuel down when my fool of a brother tried to fight him. When I got there, he was hovering over your uncle. I shot the guy to protect ourselves. Never shoot unless you have to, Chickpea.”

  Mavis snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Do you get what I’m telling you?”

  “You want me to marry Jack anyway,” Mavis grumbled.

  Abbie sighed. “I’m not telling you what you should or should not do. Your mother grew up on that mountain. We had money, made a lot of it selling whiskey when it wasn’t supposed to exist, but we started out with very little. She was my second baby. I had to bury my first, a little boy. Maybe we spoiled her and your Uncle Gavin a little too much because we lost Joseph. They seem to care an awful lot about the money and what will happen to it when your grandfather and I die. She smothers you and is constantly trying to marry you off to gain more prestige. You, my dear Chickpea, are better than that. Go out and change the world. Make it a better place, help people who can’t help themselves, and take risks. Live, child, live.” She cupped her granddaughter’s face, sweeping her thumb over Mavis’ cheek. “Live.”

  She loved her grandmother, but she had a decision to make, and Abbie was right about a few things. If she remained with her parents as a single woman—and according to her mother, twenty-one was over the hill—she would constantly be under her mother’s thumb. “Live?” Mavis mumbled.

  Meeting Abbie’s eyes, Mavis asked, “What if I can’t stand him after I marry him?”

  Abbie shrugged. “So you marry him and then divorce him. You will still get all of the money. Only you. Your mother will have a fit, as will your Uncle Gavin, but it would serve them right.”

  “And if I don’t go through with it?”

  “You can do anything you want. You are your own person. You set the rules for yourself, Chickpea. I’ve always told you that.”

  She studied her grandmother for a few moments before she asked, “Grandma, when did you know you were in love with Grandpa? Were you really over Elvin?”

  Abbie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes drifting to the window and the cloudless night sky, full of twinkling stars. “Do you ever really get over your first love? I think, instead of getting over him, I let him go and made room in my heart to love your grandfather truly.” She looked at her granddaughter and smiled softly. “We’d been married six months and four days. There was nothing explosive, no big epiphany, I just watched him read while I did some sewing, patching a hole in his shirt, and I knew. It’s a wonder I hadn’t been kicked out on my keister since the day before, I’d gotten into a shouting match with his mother. She told me I should be in the kitchen and keeping house, not getting my hands dirty with menfolk’s work.”

  Mavis barked with laughter and quickly covered her mouth, dropping the volume of her mirth. “Sorry,” she whispered. “What happened to her?”

  “I basically told her that she had no say because I wasn’t married to her, I was married to her son. Then I told her to suck on a rotten egg. She didn’t appreciate me much. She also said that when I got double the old price for our hooch, she could have gotten triple. Guissepi kept a tight grip on his money. I was lucky he liked me.”

  “What about Grandpa Norman?”

  Abbie smiled fondly. “He was a good man who loved his sons and me. He healed after the accident and helped us. Sometimes he put his wife in her place, but most of the time, he said it was easier just to let her yap. He loved your mama and your uncle, though. Truth be told, she did too. She softened a bit when I birthed Joseph and mourned his death almost as much as your grandfather and me. The moment your mother was born, she hovered. So, she babysat while I worked. It was the perfect solution. Norman died when your mother was ten and your uncle was seven. Emily lived another decade. I swear she did it out of spite, but like I said, once the kids came, her attitude toward me softened.”

  “I wish I would have met them.”

  “Me too, Chickpea, me too.”

  Mavis noticed her grandmother’s eyes were shiny with tears and watched as the older woman seemed to shake the hold the memories of the past had on her. “Grandma?”

  “Yes, Chickpea?”

  Sticking out her tongue, Mavis grimaced. “I really don’t want to marry him, but I also don’t want to deal with my mother my whole life. If I run away, I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

  “If you think you are getting rid of me that easily, you are mistaken, my dear girl. We will find a way if that is your decision.”

  “Then help me pack. I refuse to marry a patsy.” Mavis hopped off her bed and hissed in pain.

  “I’ll pack, you sit.” Abbie placed both hands on her granddaughter’s cheeks. “I’m proud of you, Chickpea. You set your own course and follow it. No matter where it takes you, no matter what happens. You live and do what you want.”

  When they were done, they quietly moved downstairs, where her grandfather sat with the car running. Sticking his head out the window, he said, “We were hoping you’d be smarter than your mama. Get in! We’ve got to make a break for it.”

  Dust flew up when he slammed on the gas, and Mavis was finally free to live. Along the way, she made some mistakes, married the wrong guy a year later, but she still lived and made her mark on the world.

  About Maria Vickers

  Maria Vickers is an international bestselling author of both gay and straight romance. She currently resides in St. Louis, MO, with her pug, Spencer Tracy. She has always had a passion for writing, and after she became disabled in 201
0, she decided to use writing as her escape. She firmly believes that life is about what you make of it; you have to live it to the fullest no matter the circumstances. Getting sick may have changed her life forever, but it also opened doors she thought would always be out of reach.

  Growing up in the Navy, she used to weave tales for her siblings and her friends about anything and everything. And when she wasn't creating her own stories, she had a book in her hand. They transported her to another world. With her books, she hopes her readers have the same experience, and that they can relate to her characters.

  Join her reader group, Maria’s Love Seekers.

  Also By Maria Vickers

  Exposed (Love Seekers, Book 1)

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  Redeemed (Love Seekers, Book 2)

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  Claimed (Love Seekers, Book 3)

  * * *

  Siren’s Song

  * * *

  Unbreak Me

  Powerful Things by Renee Regent

  Chapter 1

  Tuesday, Mid-April, near Atlanta, Georgia

  The ropes weren’t tight enough.

  “Bella, this has to be done right. If I can easily escape, it won’t work. Tighter.”

  Rachel Diaz had never been tied to a tree before, but there was a first time for everything. Her younger sister, Bella, had reluctantly agreed to help her with this “crazy stunt” as she’d called it, but only if she could broadcast it live on her various social media pages. Still, that was no reason to do a poor job of it. If Rachel was going to do something, she’d do it right or not at all.

  “I’m pulling it as tight as I can. This rope is scratchy.”

  Rachel winced as the rope cut into her abdomen. Maybe that soft kind of rope would have been a more comfortable choice, but it wouldn’t hold as well against the rough bark of the tree. Plus, discomfort was part of the bargain—she knew her suffering would only garner more sympathy from the crowds. And that could only help her cause.

  “That’s better. For now. We may have to adjust it later.”

  She shifted, tugging at her bonds to be sure they held. She was sitting under an old oak tree in Ogelvie Park, waging a protest to save the old tree from destruction. Her goal was to spend each day tied to the tree until the City of Kennesaw Planning and Zoning Commission reversed their decision to cut down several trees and raze a portion of green space in order to expand the nearby parking lot.

  Bella stepped back and began taking still shots with her phone’s camera. She walked around the tree, snapping photos from every angle. Rachel watched, making a mental note to use them later in a blog post about her experience. People in the park were watching them, with curious glances and plenty of whispering. One brave soul approached, an older man walking his golden retriever.

  “Hey, young ladies. Is this some kind of kinky demonstration? Like for one of them BDMM clubs?”

  Rachel stared, irritation beginning to surface. “The proper term is ‘BDSM’ and no. It is not.”

  He looked from her to Bella, then glanced around as though looking for a camera crew.

  “Is this a stunt for some reality show, then?”

  Bella stopped taking photos and stood back. She answered in her softer, more gentle tone.

  “My sister is protesting the expansion of the parking lot. The city wants to cut these trees down to make room for a bunch of food trucks.”

  “Ah.” The man nodded, smirking. “That’s a noble pursuit. How long is she gonna sit there, do you reckon?”

  Rachel spoke up, not reining in her passion for this project one bit. “As long as it takes. I’ll be here every day until they see reason.”

  The old man tipped his ball cap to her and tugged at his dog’s leash. “Well, good luck to you, Missy. You’re going to need it.”

  “Thanks.” She watched him leave, then looked at Bella, who was shaking her head. Rachel snapped, “What? You were on board with this when I brought it up.”

  “I didn’t think you were serious. Every day? Really?”

  “Really. Now, start filming. Wait, hand me the signs.”

  They had crafted several cardboard signs explaining the purpose of the protest. Rachel would change cards every ten seconds, so that anyone watching the video could read what it was all about. She had a speech prepared and would end the video with her call to action. This “stunt” would be worth it if she could get crowds of people to join in the protest, maybe even sign a petition. She hadn’t thought it through entirely in her excitement to begin, but she was certain this was going to work.

  As they began filming, a small crowd gathered. Many were also recording her with their phone cameras. This was good. She stifled a smile, wanting to stay serious. She was all for the idea of food trucks near the park—but somewhere else. She didn’t want any trees cut, but if it had to happen, so be it.

  Just not this tree. Her tree.

  Even her parents thought she was going a bit overboard with this one. Which made her angry, considering how this particular tree held so many memories for them.

  No, she couldn’t let their family history be wiped away to make room for more asphalt. She may indeed be crazy for caring so much, or for believing in silly superstitions.

  But hope and dreams were powerful things, and she was going to fight to the bitter end for hers.

  Cash Bradford couldn’t believe his luck.

  After years of struggling, he was on the edge of something big. With two food trucks and plans to buy another before year’s end, he could finally say he’d made it. The recent victory at Ogelvie Park was a feather in his cap. He’d lobbied hard for the planning and zoning commission and the Parks and Recs people to realize what a boon it would be for the community to have a food truck court at the park. It would attract not only more people to the park but festivals and events too.

  If he could work out deals with other parks in the county, or heck, even all over Atlanta, he might need a fleet of trucks. Maybe he could even set up a franchise and have other people run the trucks and pay him for the privilege.

  He shook his head as he parked his car, dismissing his dreams of grandeur. He swung his legs out of his seat and stood, stretching. He’d come alone, but this park always reminded him of times he’d spent with an old girlfriend. He and Rachel used to meet here for lunch when she’d worked at her parents’ gift shop, just down the road. A food truck would have come in handy back then. He wondered where she was now and if she still held a grudge over their breakup.

  A familiar ache surfaced once again at the thought of Rachel. It was only after he’d left Georgia for good that he realized what a mistake he’d made, leaving her. But he’d had a career to pursue, and that had turned out well. He shook off thoughts of the past. He hadn’t seen her in years, and she’d probably forgotten him by now.

  Ogelvie Park was busy for a Tuesday, with joggers and parents watching their children in the playground area. He’d come to scope out the lot and get a feel for how it was going to look once the expansion was done. The announcement had been posted the week before on the Kennesaw’s Planning and Zoning Commission, and the Parks and Recreation websites and social media pages. He’d also announced the news to his followers on his social media channels, hoping to garner enthusiasm for the project. He hadn’t heard anyone say a negative word about it. Most seemed excited to have a convenient food source nearby while they enjoyed the park.

  He surveyed the parking lot, making mental notes about the layout. On his phone, he studied the diagram of the proposed expansion. It would take out a good bit of green space, but the park was huge. Losing one little corner and some old trees was worth having a proper food court. Plus, it would add parking spaces, allowing more folks to come to the park. It was a win-win in his mind.

  As he made his way back to his car, he noticed a small crowd gathered near a tree. Curiosity grew and when an onlooker walked away, he saw the source of the commotion. A woman was tied to the tree, and everyone was simply taking photos or sta
ring at her.

  What the heck?

  He strolled closer, wondering what kind of stunt was going on. Probably some narcissistic selfie-taker hoping to go viral on the Internet. Though, compared with kids eating soap or snorting cinnamon, this looked pretty tame.

  A few yards closer, he stopped. His heart thumped, and now his pulse ramped up. Surprise mixed with amusement as he stared at her face—the expressive dark eyes, the stubborn chin, the full, lush lips. He’d seen that face in his dreams now and again since they’d broken up. Rachel Diaz was still as beautiful as he remembered. And from the looks of it, still a little crazy.

  After a moment or two of observing, he approached. She was speaking to the group now, her long black curls moving slightly in the breeze. Whatever cause she was passionately pursuing these days, she was likely to forget as soon as something else caught her attention. He’d loved her enthusiasm, but her inability to finish anything she wasn’t passionate about had been a source of frustration. She’d been the free spirit to his workaholic, and in the end, love hadn’t been enough to sustain them.