Read In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) Online
Authors: Tracy Ellen
In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod)
In Love by Design
The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod
(
Volume III
)
by
Tracy Ellen
n
by Tracy Ellen
Copyright © 201
3 by Tracy Ellen
Amazon Edition, License Notes
.
All rights reserved.
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Dedication
I
wouldn’t be writing this third book without the ongoing loving support from my husband, my family, and my closest friends. You all provide my everyday reasons for existing and have my heartfelt thanks.
TE
Cover Art
by
Samantha Prudhon Falkowski
Acknowledgment
s & Special Thanks
I love my bunch of beautiful editors! From the kindness of your hearts and the delightful pickiness of your big brains, you have all given me so much in time, effort, and friendship. Thank you, thank you
!
Contributing Editors
Kelly Beausoleil
Amber Leigh Gleisner
Beth Lake
Shannan Robinett
Sandy Samuel
Mary Kris Smith
Chapter XXIII
Epilogue
Sunday, 11/25/12
11:30 PM (CST)
FROM:
[email protected]
SUBJECT:
Viva Las Vegas!
Darling Grandmother,
Score! Whatever magic you used to
persuade Stella the Stubborn--it worked. Your great-granddaughter and Eric George have decided on a Las Vegas wedding on New Year’s Day. Thank you, thank you!
Business has been hopping at the store
and I’m hiring a couple more part-timers. The Florida girls left earlier today, and except for Crookie, my houseguests are now gone. Also, Jazy and I had a talk about James Byrd tonight. I have plans to see him later this week. We shall finally see how Mr. Byrd rolls! More on that subject later.
Yes
, for once the rumors are true. I have a boyfriend. Unfortunately, he disappeared the next day, so that makes it hard to respond to your high praise that we’ll make a wonderful couple. Unless you think being an official couple for nine hours is long enough to make this determination? With most of those hours spent asleep? And the last hour was me swearing at Luke with loathing while he laughed and held me, as I had a monstrous needle stuck repeatedly in my right cheekie to be branded like his personal cow on his private hobby farm? Yes, I know that’s what I get for proclaiming I’d get a tattoo if I ever fell in love, so quit laughing. It hurt!
Your German Baron has real dungeons in his castle? Lucky you! Enjoy your stay. ;D
“
Madness” by Muse
Thursday, 12/06/12
10:
15 PM
Y
ou can tell a lot about a woman’s mood just by looking at her hands. Right this minute, mine were white-knuckling the steering wheel in Lady Liberty while I drive home from Mac’s house. I was damn tired.
T
oday was the annual Winter Walk festival in Northfield and Bel’s was flocked with Christmas shoppers. Later in the evening, a group of us girls met over at my sister’s to put the finishing touches on the plans for Anna’s bridal shower this Sunday.
Since I
’m still officially a girlfriend, and with shower presents for Anna and Stella in mind, I’d gone lingerie shopping last week. After earrings and shoes, buying pretties was my favorite pastime. What am I saying? They’re all equally necessary to my happiness. Purchasing exquisite undies was therapeutic for me and sure beat psychiatric bills. I hit the mother lode at Flirt Boutique in St. Paul. I’d spent an extravagant amount of money on babydolls, teddies, bras and panties, along with silk stockings and lace tights. It was two hours of heaven amidst my last two weeks of hell.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw James
Byrd and Jazy following closely on my tail.
As if I didn’t have enough
confusing and worrisome issues challenging me lately, Lady Liberty had to pick tonight to remind me that I’d put off deciding on a new car for too long. Luckily, my jeep’s old battery had enough juice to respond to a jump, but James thought it might also be the starter going bad. James insisted they follow me home before those two were off to some swanky charity event at a club in St Paul.
I
was envious that Jazy got to dress up; especially since she’d borrowed one of my newest cocktail dresses I haven’t worn yet. We can’t usually wear each other’s clothes, but this little emerald silk and chiffon number fell in pleats straight from tiny spaghetti straps down to a few inches above the knee. It was a very deceptive dress. The long keyhole neckline gave peek-a-boo glimpses of a girl’s cleavage when the pleated fabric parted as you move. It was a flippy, swirly dress guaranteed to drive men crazy.
Sighing, I tr
ied to be happy someone was getting to drive men crazy tonight, even if it wasn’t me.
Retail
therapy aside, these last couple of weeks have still been a bitch. Shaking my head, I forced myself to take a deep breath and get it together. Getting it together for me means making a list. Since I was driving, a mental list would have to do.
Turning off the music
to compose the list, I heard my phone beeping in my purse. Reaching inside, I pulled it out and glanced at the screen while trying not to run into a parked car.
There
was an email notification from a man named Edmund who has 38 sluts who want to meet me. Last time spam from this pimpster slimed its way through he had 78 sluts. I wondered what’s happened to the missing sluts. Then I couldn’t help but be offended that I was being offered the dregs of his stable after the top forty were taken.
Like I said,
it’s been a rough two weeks for me.
I also had
a voicemail from my fake godmother, Jamie Wade. It was probably about the part-time employees her grapevine has found for me. This was working out pretty slick. I’d hired one referral from her last Monday and had interviewed another likely candidate yesterday. I decided the message could wait until I got home and put the phone back in my purse without listening.
Okay, back to my mental list of gripes. I
started organizing my thoughts by stating out loud, “We’ll take it chronologically from the oldest to the newest problem. Number one on the list: Being in love is a major pain in my ass!”
A few of the things I’ve learned over the past two weeks
were really bugging me, but overshadowing all of those concerns was how down I’ve been feeling since last Tuesday. The day came and went with no word from Luke. It wasn’t that he committed to those dates I’d suggested for getting away alone together. However, I haven’t heard one peep from Mr. Secretive since the morning after Thanksgiving, so I’d hoped he might surprise me.
‘Who am I kidding? I’ve been waiting for Our Turn like a cat in heat!’
So far, being in love sucked the big one.
‘I
t’s pretty damn hard to become a fabulous girlfriend when there’s no boyfriend around for weeks for me to practice on!’
I griped bitterly.
‘
Yes, Anabel, and not even one phone call or text in all that time, either,’
smirked the mean mommy voice.
‘Things are not adding up and
that’s a fact not to be ignored,’
stated the accountant voice.
‘
Hey, the man’s got a tough job. There are no facts yet, so give the dude a break before getting your panties in a twist. Who knows what he’s doing?’
argued the detective voice, sounding defensive.
‘I know for a fact
who he’s not doing!’
haughtily sniffed the sex kitten voice.
I ha
d to agree with all the voices in my head. Who did know what or who Luke was really doing?
Not his new girlfriend, that’s for sure.
I only know he’s been gone two weeks and has not found one spare second in all that time to contact me. Nothing Luke’s revealed about his job made me believe he needed to observe radio silence for this long. There has to be some perks to being the company’s owner, such as making personal calls on the clock won’t get him written up. My logical conclusions were Luke’s lying in a coma somewhere and yearning to remember me, or his tongue has been cut out and his hands were in casts. Or he’s out of contact by choice.
With everything else on my mind,
it was a toss-up which answer I wanted to be true.
The
morning after Thanksgiving, Luke dragged me kicking and screaming to my appointment at High Noon Tattoo Shop to get me branded. The reason the business card looked familiar the night when he gave me my so-called present was because this shop is located down the street from Bel’s. The tattoo shop has been there for a while but due to my needle phobia, I’d been very successful blocking its existence from my personal universe.
The next hour of
torture has also been blocked from my memory, but according to what was prettily tattooed in black ink inside a pink heart high on my right buttock, I was officially the chattel of a man named Luke.
After my ordeal
by needle, my Master was watching me lick my fingers over my consoling breakfast treat of a chocolate éclair from Anna’s newest dessert competition at CakeWalk when he got a text. One of the partners from Luke’s company, DDL & Associates, said he was needed ASAP to deal with an urgent situation.
Before
my boyfriend took off, and in between some goodbye kisses that erupted into a hot and heavy make-out session in our truck parked behind Bel’s, I learned the DD part of the DDL stands for Dan and Daniel.
Taking his turn sucking the
creamy custard filling off my fingers and then licking it off my lips, Luke explained to me both Dan’s were men from his Army days, and the three of them each own an equal third of the private security company.
M
y boyfriend was so talented at sucking and licking, he made me a bad listener. When he pulled me across the cab of the truck and into his arms, I was barely paying attention to his low mesmerizing voice telling me a little of the history of DDL because I had better things to think about. Later, I recalled he said the three of them had basically divided the company into thirds. Luke ran field operations and the operators, Dan was the IT guru in charge of the business side of things, and Daniel specialized in procurement, which included gear, gadgets, and human talent.
Despite his kisses,
I wasn’t too terribly disappointed to see Luke go because of my busy schedule with work, the Florida girls visiting that weekend, and because my butt cheek really hurt. However, I was very disappointed his parents didn’t get to stay for the entire weekend as planned, either.
Damaris
went shopping that Black Friday and bonded with my family and friends while I worked. Svettie tagged along uninvited with the girls, so I was doubly glad I’d decided to hold down the fort at the bookstore. Anna, proving once again her superior qualities as a best friend, bombarded me with texts and pictures throughout the day of their Mall of America experience. It was almost as bad as being there, but not quite.
