Authors: Susan Fleming
ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (17 page)
Conclusion
The morning after, Betty and Zack cross paths in their kitchen. Zack is drinking a box of milk while Betty is trying to look for her favorite juice in the refrigerator. Things are really more awkward for both of them now until Zack breaks the silence with a greeting.
“Good morning, Betty,” says Zack.
“Good morning, brother,” says Betty.
Zack then walks over to her and whispers in her ear. “Last night was really great. I am looking forward for next time.”
These words surprise Betty, and instead of saying something to her brother, she just walks away with a smile on her face.
This deliciously dirty story is a part of Susan Fleming’s super-charged, highly lewd collection of love and lust, written in 2015. Those who attempt to steal any part of this goldmine and take it as their own risk being a fiery, hot death from a hunk bearing copyright notices—and she’s not about to play with you.
This is a work of fiction—although we wish that people like this really existed, it’s nothing more than a figment of a very, very overactive imagination. Any resemblance to someone you know, a place you love or anything you hold dear to your heart is nothing more than a craving in your heart that these carnal desires and actions were true!
It goes without saying that this book oozes with erotic sex appeal, and is filled to the rafters with a smorgasbord of acts that you certainly wouldn’t tell your grandmother about. Bodice-ripping, panty-dropping and glasses-steaming, the scenes contained herein are wickedly naughty!
Although all the saucy characters are flirting with forbidden desires and sometimes taking the naughty fruit they really shouldn’t be, all are consenting adults over the age of 18 and not blood-related. What they are is passionate and eager to explore their carnal desires all day long.
In short, this book is going to get you very, very hot!
© Susan Fleming
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any many whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults age 18 and over. All characters represented are age 18 or over.
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1: And So It Begins
Chapter 2 The Letter From A Savior
Chapter 3 A Future In A Posting
Chapter 4: A Future In A Glance
Chapter 5: A Portrait Of James Black
Chapter 6: The Love Of Strangers
Chapter 7 : A Home Of Promise
Chapter 8: An Eternal Promise
Chapter 9: A Life Worth Living
Conclusion
Chapter 1
And So It Begins
Wisps of long blond hair clutch in her face; wisps the same color as the cornfields in which she sets her gaze. Many would find this scenery peaceful; a bright blue sky that seemed to reach from Elizabeth’s gaze towards God’s hands and it was to this God that she prayed for saving and redemption. The sun gazed upon her head and smiled upon her, an act she was hopeful as a sign from God to take her away and out of these fields that she has grown up in.
It had been just a few months ago when her father had been in town and read the letter that was updated monthly of the “Town Dead” at the hands of the Civil War. His heart beat rapidly, as it always did, scanning for Denver, Frances on the continually growing list of names. His beating heart pumping through each breath, pulsating throughout his body as he imagined the jackrabbits he caught did before he slaughtered them; how odd to be on the receiving end.
For months, he had done this practice and felt the relief lift from his chest time and time again as he got past the “Ds” and realized that his son was safe. He felt a twinge of guilt each time, for his quick response to feel so happy and elated and relieved, while others around him cried and screamed out in pain. A strong, stout man, he never allowed others to see his anxiety as he approached the list each month and this month wouldn’t be any different.
Except for that it had been, because sitting there, as deadly as the muskets or bayonet that had likely killed Frances, was his name staring back at his father coldly, with no sense of remorse in doing so. Never had 12 letters riveted his life so deeply or held such a large impact on the family. Of course, they knew this was always a possibility, but everyone was in agreement that the war must certainly almost be over, so with great hesitancy, Mrs. Denver had given her well wishes and Frances had been off on his way.
Elizabeth knew from the moment that she had found out the reality of her brother’s death that she must leave this town. There weren’t many options for her, she was a list and jumbled completion of irony.
She had a soft and beautiful face as pure as the snow that covered their fields in the winter, but she was overworked and strong like the horses they kept on their farm. The fronts of her hands, beautiful and delicate, when turned over, were calloused and bruised from her hard work and dedication to the farm, a strong work ethic instilled in her by Frances himself. She could break a chicken’s neck without a moment of hesitation, but would later tear up at the promise of spring and a field filled with crops. She knew her beauty, and in this, found a sense of her worth.
One night, a few months after her beloved brother’s death, she heard her sisters discussing the idea and possibility of a marriage in which she would be shipped off, most likely across the country, and given to a man she had never met. The idea compelled her, made her innocent heart flutter at the sound of its excitement. She knew her sisters, sweet but too shy, would never live a life of success this way and that this would never result in a life of happiness for them. Her father would agree, and she knew that he would also want two of his daughters kept at home help tend to the farm.
However, she also knew that there was promise and prospect in finding, perhaps if she were lucky, a rich man…one that may even allow her to send money home to her family; a family who had taken a large financial hit by losing its only son. She felt duty in this and, again, a sense of rebellion and excitement.
When her sisters had finished brushing their long, luscious hair together and discussing this opportunity, she had snuck into their room and noticed, on the nightstand, a letter explaining in detail how this setup would work. She read it quickly, glancing at the door nervously every few moments to make sure her sisters weren’t coming back, as if they learned that their younger sister was interested, they might confide so in their father, advising him of the dangers of sending a young, beautiful daughter away.
As she scanned the paper, she realized that a local newspaper would run ads of women in hopes of finding them a bachelor in the West. She knew that she must consider the opportunity to bring this up to her father rationally and carefully, and she must, above all, make him feel like this was his own idea.
She knew her sisters were hiding this letter from their father, in fear of him finding it and considering it, and so she slid it into her dress. She snuck quickly and quietly down the hallway, turning the corner and placing the letter, gently, by her parents’ bedroom door. She knew her father would assume that it had fallen out of her mother’s magazine, and that her mother would never correct him or tell him otherwise.
She rushed back down the stairs and waited anxiously for her destiny.
Chapter 2
The Letter From A Savior
It was two nights later, two sunsets and sunrises, two moons and suns, two nights of Elizabeth lying in bed at night, staring at her ceiling, pondering what her life could be, before her father said anything.
She had been pouring them each a glass of milk as they sat down to dinner, the very milk she had milked herself that day, when her father had placed the letter on the side of his dinner plate. Her heart and stomach tumbled as if being pushed down a hill like silly Hansel and Gretel. Her blue eyes shot up quickly, but her father was busy putting his chicken and freshly baked rolls onto his plate, oblivious. She turned her back on her father and went back into the kitchen to help her sisters and mother.
“I can’t seem to find it since he saw it last night,” her mother was whispering harshly to Mary and Anna. Mary fumbled clumsily with the pie she was cutting.
“I’m not understanding,” Anna had said, a simple girl herself. Her sisters were beautiful too, but in a less obvious way. They spent every waking moment together, braiding one another’s hair, whispering secrets, sewing dresses and fixing elaborate pies for supper.
Their brother’s birth had separated Elizabeth from Mary’s age by two years and Anna’s by three, and by the time she had come alone, her brother had wanted a new and more intriguing friend to play with, and hence Elizabeth grew up outside on the farm with him, milking cows and killing animals, while her sisters sewed dresses and squeezed lemonade inside their home.
“What’s going on?” Elizabeth had asked innocently. Her mother had brushed her hand on her apron and hushed her. She knew that her mother was terrified, to her core, of losing one of her daughters, especially having just lost a son.
Elizabeth felt guilty for having set this in motion, felt guilty for her mother, but reminded herself of the possibilities that lay within the beauty of the West. She imagined herself stepping out of a train, suitcase in one hand, hope and her future in the other. She would have her sisters braid her corn yellow hair in a long French braid, wear her favorite sunshine bonnet, and her best white dress that she would make sure to wash at least three times prior to the ride. She would rub lilacs behind her ears and on her wrists in order to smell nicely and would smile, regardless of what he looked like or how he acted upon their first introduction. This she promised herself.
The four of them found their way to the table and sat down. She managed to get down some bites of dinner before her father cleared his throat, an old habit he had before announcing something large. He had done the same throat clearing before announcing to the family of her brother’s departure into the unknown realm of the Civil War.
“It has been brought to my attention that there are suitors out West who are looking for young, single women,” he began. He took a long, slow swig of his milk. Her sisters glanced at one another and then her across the table. Her mother buttered a roll nervously.
“Oh, Alexander, do we really need to talk about this now?” she asked, a nervous laughter escaping her tight lined lips.
“When else are we going to, Margot?” he asked, dumfounded she would question him. Elizabeth shifted in her seat.
“I only meant-” she began, but her father waved his hand quickly to quiet her.
“Our family does not have enough money to send all of you girls off,” her mother gasped at the thought of this, but her father continued on, “and I need to keep two of you here to help on the farm. Now, for one of you, this leaves a world of endless possibilities; a life out West filled with men who are all respectable suitors, I am quite sure of that. It seems what I need to do is pick a daughter, which leaves me in quite a difficult predicament.”
“Well, father-” Anna began. Again, he brushed her thoughts away, as quickly as one swats away an obnoxious fly.
“I think Elizabeth would most likely give me the best luck,” he said as he glanced up a winked at her. Her heart pounced in her chest. Her sisters seemed relieved, but then Mary chirped up, suddenly aware of the unwritten sister rules and obligations.
“Father, Elizabeth is the strongest woman here that works the farm,” she pointed out.
“All that more appealing to a suitor. She doesn’t do anything that you and Anna couldn’t learn quickly…unless, you’re suggesting that you’d rather go than she?” he asked bluntly. Elizabeth darted her eyes quickly to her sister, who looked down at her plate as she felt her eyes gaze upon her.
“I’m not quite sure I could do that, father.”
“Exactly. Elizabeth is the only one in this family who could do this and do it well.”
“But, why? Why must any of them leave?” her mother asked, tears penetrating her eyes. He laughed.
“Why, for love, of course! Unconditional, beautiful, relentless love!” her father shouted, voice booming across the room. Elizabeth saw her sisters’ eyes glaze over, regretting for a moment that they hadn’t offered themselves up for this possibility.
“Oh, and a rich suitor will send us money.” Her mother’s eyes grew cold and Elizabeth witnessed one single dark tear roll down her cheek.
“Margot, we lost our son, who was my leading hand here at the farm. We send our most admirable daughter out West to a rich suitor, and we will be doing fine once again.” She could tell her sisters were hurt by their father’s abrupt honesty, and each fell back in their seats, defeated but also relishing in this defeat as their inadequacy kept them safe, comfortable and at home.
And the house was silent. Elizabeth tried to not let her family’s lack of enthusiasm either way, to rejoice in the possibilities of what this could mean for her life or the terror in being without her, resonate with her, but it did, deeply.
“But I cannot manage to lose another child,” her mother muttered softly before placing her head in her hands and sobbing. Elizabeth knew that this was her opening to not seem too enthusiastic about the opportunity to her father, and also console her mother. She rushed to her side and sat down on the floor next to her, placing her head in her mother’s lap. Her mother put her hands on her head and leaned over, kissing her head softly.
“Mother, this is the best for everyone,” Elizabeth said confidently. She took her mother’s hands, kissed them, and then slowly got up, looking her sisters in the eyes and then her father.
“Yes, father, I will do it.” And with a clasp of his hands, she knew the deal was sealed.
