Collide

By

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Juliana Stone

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9881385-3-7

Cover art and design by Patricia
Schmitt/Pickyme

Copy editing by Rachel D’Amario

This book is a work of fiction. References to
real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations
are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used
fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue,
are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed
as real

No part of this book may be reproduced,
scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of
copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights.
Purchase only authorized editions.

For permission to use any part of the
material in this book, contact me here:
[email protected]

The Barker Triplets

OFFSIDE (Book 1)

COLLIDE (Book 2)

CONCEAL (Book 3 coming this spring 2013!)

To read exclusive excerpts and additional
information about all my books, please visit my website:
www.julianastone.com

I hope you enjoy Bobbi and Shane’s book.
Directly following, please enjoy an exclusive excerpt from the
first book in the Bad Boys of Crystal Lake, a new series coming
this spring!

The moment Bobbi Jo Barker uttered the word
‘yes’ she knew it was a mistake. And just like the first time she’d
reached for that damn bottle of tequila—back when she was just
fourteen—she knew it would bite her in the ass.

But she wasn’t fourteen anymore and she
wasn’t dealing with the after effects of a cheap bottle of tequila.
Nope. As her gramps Herschel would say, she was ‘all growed up’ and
had been for a long time. So why the hell did she feel so
scared?

Because you agreed to marry a man you
don’t love
.

Oh, right. There was that.

The panic that heated her insides reared its
ugly head, and for a moment Bobbi was afraid all was lost. She was
afraid that she wasn’t strong enough to do what she needed to
do—marry Gerald Dooley, the man who could give her what she
wanted—so she reverted to an old childhood remedy. She closed her
eyes and counted.

One. She inhaled and shook out her hands.

Two. She exhaled and shook out her hands.

She repeated the process twice and still her
nerves were hopping so badly that she was afraid she’d pass out,
and that just wouldn’t do. Not today.
Not today
.

A knock at the door made her jump and for a
moment she was frozen, her eyes wild as they took in the reflection
in the mirror. What she saw should have reassured her. It should
have told her that everything was going to be fine. Women who
looked like the one in the mirror always ended up on top, didn’t
they?

Didn’t they
?

She supposed that if she was looking in from
the outside, she could appreciate the stark beauty of the designer
dress, the simplicity of the hair and the dramatic scope of the
makeup.

But she wasn’t on the outside looking in. She
was here in the moment,
living the dream
, as most of the
women in her hometown of New Waterford would say. And yet she felt
as if she was asleep, walking through a nightmare—a nightmare of
her own making, mind you—but a nightmare all the same.

And the thing of it was, she would be
right.

Oh God, when had everything started to feel
so wrong? Dumb question because she knew the answer and since she
had told herself that
he
was off limits today, she pushed
the thought out of her mind.

“Bobbi, can I come in?”

No
.

“The door’s open,” she said, happy to hear
her voice was controlled. Not a hint of fear or anxiety in there.
Nope. She had her shit together. This was good.

Today was going to be good.

She plastered a fake smile to her face and
turned just as her sister Billie walked into the bedroom, a tall,
slim vision in the crimson red dress Bobbi had ordered special from
New York. Much to the chagrin of the local bridal boutique, but
seriously, how could The Proper Topper, compete with New York
couture?

“Wow,” Billie said, eyes wide, a grin on her
face. “Sis, you look stunning. Like Hollywood stunning. Hell, you
could give Betty a run for her money.”

At the mention of her other sister, Bobbi
frowned, wondering where the third Barker triplet was, and, as if
reading her mind, Billie shrugged. “She’s good today. Quiet.
Non-dramatic
. And I don’t think she’s had a drop of liquor,
though” she glanced at the clock beside Bobbi’s bed. “It’s only
three so things could change. There’s still time for her to get out
of hand.”

“Don’t even think it,” Bobbi groaned,
pressing neat, white tipped nails to her forehead.

Billie set her bouquet down on the bed—a trio
of cream colored mini calla lilies that were all the rage in New
York, or at least that’s what the bridal books and internet
articles said—and crossed the room until she stood a few inches
from Bobbi. The two sisters stared at each other in silence for the
longest time, and when Billie cleared her throat, Bobbi held up her
hand because she knew what was coming.

“Don’t say it Billie.” To say that her sister
wasn’t fond of Bobbi’s fiancé, Gerald was an understatement.

To say that Billie didn’t give two shits
about Bobbi’s wishes was also an understatement.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Billie
asked quietly.

No
.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Oh my god, Billie, can we drop this? It’s my
wedding day for Christ sake.” Bobbi pushed past her sister and
leaned into the mirror, fiddling with her pearl earrings—a gift
from Gerald—as she sent major stink eye toward her sister.

Which Billie ignored. “But do you love
him?”

Bobbi counted to three, even though she knew
she should have kept on until at least ten, because her temper was
beginning to boil. And the thing of it was, Bobbi prided herself on
her control, on her absolute control of her emotions and the way
she displayed them. But her sisters had always had a knack for
getting under her skin, and these days it was Billie who
continually pushed her. It was Billie who second guessed everything
because, you know, the woman was in love, and that meant that she
was an authority on the subject.

Billie Jo Barker and her happily ever after
with Logan Forest.

Whatever.

Storybook romances didn’t happen for
everyone. Bobbi had been down that road before and it had ended in
disaster. Hell, disaster would be putting it mildly.

Bobbi took an extra breath—just to be
safe—and turned to face her sister.

“Look Billie, I appreciate your concern but I
wouldn’t be marrying Gerald if I didn’t love him.”

Wow. Good lie. She was getting good at this
whole lying thing.

“I hope so.” Billie cocked her head to the
side and arched her eyebrow in that way she had…that way that
irritated the crap out of Bobbi. It meant that she was about to say
something that would piss Bobbi off. “I just,” she bit her lip and
shook her head. “I just don’t feel it, Bobbi. Not like before. Not
like…”

“Not like Shane?” Bobbi bit out, angry that
her sister had made her say his name. He was off limits. He had to
be off limits, especially today. Didn’t Billie know that?

Billie’s expertly made up eyes narrowed, just
a bit. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Not like Shane.”

“Well that would be a good thing because
whatever it was that I had with Shane nearly destroyed me, Billie.
You know that.”

“I just want you to be happy,” her sister
said quietly.

A vein began to throb over Bobbi’s left
temple. She didn’t have to see it to know it was there and she
frowned, her blue eyes stormy as she gazed back at her sister. Her
sister who was madly in love with a man and anyone with an eye in
their head knew it. How could you not? The looks and touches, and
kisses and touches, and fucking
looks
were plain old
nauseating.

Enough already.

“Billie, there are lots of kinds of love.”
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Not everyone loves the
same and not every love is the same.” Oh god, was she even making
sense?

“Uh huh,” Billie said dryly.

“Not everyone needs a mad, passionate, sort
of thing.”

“Uh huh.”

Bobbi took a moment to calm herself. To fight
for that control that she desperately needed because all she wanted
to do was smash her fist into Billie’s perfectly made up face. But
then that would ruin Billie’s makeup and that wasn’t part of
Bobbi’s vision of the perfect wedding day.

Exhale.

I can’t do this
.

Inhale.

She tried again. “Not everyone wants that
sort of distraction.”

“Distraction?” Billie retorted. “Is that what
we’re calling it?
Distraction
? Wow, you make love sound so
clinical, so freaking
not
important. Whatever happened to
mad, passionate, animal magnetism hot-as-hell love?”

“It’s over rated.” The comeback popped out
before she could stop it and one look into Billie’s eyes had Bobbi
wishing she had more control over her own tongue.

“Really?” Billie flicked a long piece of hair
over her shoulder. “What about sex? How
is
your sex life
with boring I-match-my-boxers-to-my-dress-shirt Gerry? Does he even
bring you to orgasm? Does he even know how?”

“Billie Jo Barker,
that
is none of
your business!”

But her sister just shook her head and
stepped back. “I didn’t think so.”

Bobbi’s fists clenched so tightly that she
winced as her nails dug into the soft skin on her palms. When her
sister had the good notion to glance down, Billie took another step
back. Her sister may have been the super athlete, the Olympic star,
the girl who could skate circles around any guy on the ice, but
when it came to down and dirty fighting? No one could take
Bobbi.

“I bet you haven’t had sex with him in
weeks.”

Bobbi stared at her sister, suddenly and
utterly defeated because truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last
time she had been intimate with her fiancé.

Not since Shane had come home
.

God, could she not think of him already?

Something hot prickled the edges of her eyes
and she flew to the mirror, grabbing a tissue as she did so and
dabbing at the corner frantically. “Shit,” she whispered
hoarsely.

A hand on her shoulder was almost too much
and she drew in a quick, jagged breath before turning to her
sister.

“I’m getting married to Gerald today, Billie,
and I need you to be there for me. Can you do that?”

Bobbi sounded so cold even to her own ears.
So damn cold and lifeless.

For a moment Billie said nothing and then she
nodded. A quick, jerky kind of thing and grabbed her bouquet.

“I love you, sis, and I want you to be happy.
But you’re right. There are all sorts of love, I guess, and if
marrying Gerry Dooley—”

“Gerald.”

“What?”

“His name is Gerald,” Bobbi ground out. “Not
Gerry, or Gerry Berry, or Gerry the guy
who-matches-his-boxers-to-his-dress-shirt.” She nailed her sister
with ‘the’ look. “It’s Gerald.”

“If Gerald is the one to make you happy then
I support you 100 percent.”

A bittersweet smile tugged at Bobbi’s mouth.
“Okay, thanks.” She blew out a long, hot breath. “You’ve got dad?”
His memory had been better as of late and his bad days fewer than a
month ago. Dementia or Alzheimer’s or whatever the hell you wanted
to call it, seemed to have paused in its assault on Travis
Barker.