Stupid Cupid
Authors: Melissa Hosack
Evernight Publishing
Copyright© 2013 Melissa Hosack
ISBN:
978-1-77130-273-9
Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Natascha
Jaffa
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
As always, I would like
to thank my husband for all of the effort he puts into my writing. I suppose I
should also thank my son, Marshall Frost, and his naptime for allowing me the
opportunity to get some writing done.
A BIG thank you goes out to all of my readers. I really
appreciate the positive feedback given and the support shown by such a
wonderful group. You are the people who make this so much fun! Keep reading!
STUPID CUPID
Melissa
Hosack
Copyright
© 2013
Prologue
“Happy birthday, dear
Lincoln Belmonte stared at the over-the-top birthday cake in
front of her and tried to keep a smile plastered on her lips. The large burning
30 candle perched in the icing almost seemed to taunt her.
Thirty. She was thirty and still single. When she’d
graduated college at twenty-two with a degree in counseling, this wasn’t where
she’d projected herself to be at thirty. She’d wanted a husband. She’d wanted
children. She’d wanted a family. By thirty, she thought she would have two
chubby, angelic toddlers running about her home. Instead, she lived alone in a
tiny apartment even her dog wasn’t content with.
Over the years, she’d watched all her friends get married,
down to the very last one. A few of them even had children of their own while
she was still stuck in the dating scene. Her best friend, Amy, told her to
blame it on Cupid. He was the one responsible for making people fall in love…or
out of it.
“Make a wish!” Amy demanded joyfully from behind.
accusingly at the candles.
I wish I could
meet Cupid. I wish I could look him in the eyes and ask for an explanation. I
want to know why I’ve been jilted time and time again in love. I want to know
what I’ve done to deserve to be alone
. With that depressing thought, she
blew out the candles.
Chapter
One
tired moan as consciousness slowly leaked its way back into her. “I hate
birthdays,” she mumbled groggily. Rolling to her side, she stretched out on her
tiny, twin sized bed.
Instead of her hand falling off the side like usual, it hit
an expanse of soft sheets. Her eyes flew open in alarm and she bolted upright
in bed. Before her was an unfamiliar room in which she sat in an unfamiliar
bed.
She gave a squeak of horror and clutched red satin sheets
that didn’t belong to her against her chest. The last thing she remembered from
the night before was climbing into bed, her
own
bed. How she’d ended up here was a mystery.
A horrible thought occurred to her and she peeked under the
blanket. “Oh, thank goodness.” She still had on her pajama set. At least she
hadn’t done something extremely foolish and irrational. Her happiness lasted
only a moment before she realized if she hadn’t come here of her own free will,
that meant she’d been brought here unawares. She’d been kidnapped.
A noise from somewhere outside the room drew her attention,
and her eyes widened in alarm. Crap. She wasn’t alone.
It gave her satisfaction knowing her kidnapper would be
disappointed when he or she found out she wasn’t worth much. One look around
told her the person who owned this place had way more money than she did. If
they were looking for a decent ransom, they were about to be greatly
dissatisfied.
“You picked the wrong girl to kidnap.” Sliding out of bed,
she fought the urge to climb back under the warm blankets. This bed was much
more comfortable than hers, but alas, there was a kidnapper to deal with, and
she wouldn’t be caught lounging in bed like a damsel in distress no matter how
comfortable the sheets. She was here against her will despite how alluring the
place was.
Perusing the room, she calmly searched for an item that
could be used as a weapon. Her eyes locked on a brass candle holder, and she
quickly made her way over to it. Placing the candle to the side, she hefted the
large holder into her hand. “You’ll do.”
Holding her new weapon like a club, she marched with purpose
toward the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. “Not the smartest
kidnapper, are you?” Easing the door open, she peeked into the hallway.
Gorgeous hardwood floors stretched the length of a seemingly
endless hall. Straight across from her was a lavishly carved banister
overlooking the main foyer of the house. Below were black marble floors and a
pricey looking chandelier.
“Holy wow,” she breathed in awe as she tiptoed toward a wide
staircase that looked like it belonged in an opera house. “I’ve been kidnapped
by Brad Pitt!” In amazement, she tiptoed down the stairs, feeling out of place
in her fuzzy pajama bottoms and spaghetti strap top.
Reaching the main landing, she could have easily run for the
front door, yet she found herself turning toward the noises coming from the
room beyond. She was curious to know what type of person owned this mansion and
harbored the urge to kidnap her.
As she approached the door in front of her,
unmistakable sound of a kitchen. Whoever was on the other side of the door was
cooking and seemingly having a really good time of it.
A male voice belted an oldies tune accompanied by the clang
of pots and pans.
In disbelief, she pushed open the kitchen door and tiptoed
inside. The man whose tenor filled the room had his back to her, but he was
good looking even from this angle.
His shoulders rippled with muscles beneath a fitted black
t-shirt. His jeans were so tight, it was impossible not to stare at his
backside. He had a gorgeous mane of shoulder length blond hair pulled back into
a ponytail.
transfixed. Her kidnapper was not only rich, but he was better looking than her
original guess of Brad Pitt. As confusion whirled through her mind, the man
finally turned around, drawing a gasp from her throat.
Violet eyes dominated a masculine face. His cheekbones were
high, his jaw sharp and prominent. And he looked completely pissed off at her
presence. “Vandal!” he accused loudly.
“Kidnapper!”
“No good, thieving…
what
?”
He’d been stomping in her direction with ill intent when her accusation seemed
to sink in.
“No good, kidnapping…stud.” She blinked at her choice of
description.
“Kidnapping stud?” the man roared in incredulity. “I didn’t
kidnap you!”
“Then why am I here?”
He gave a derisive snort. “You tell me, honey. I have no
idea.”
that. As much as she wanted to peg him as the bad guy, it didn’t make much
sense for him to kidnap her. He was obviously wealthy, and he was extremely
good looking. Why would he need to kidnap a thirty-year-old bachelorette?
Apparently sensing her confusion, the man let out his breath
in a put upon sigh. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“The last thing I remember is going to sleep,”
my own bed.” There was a bit of sting to the second half of her sentence. As
unlikely of a kidnapper as he was, she still found it hard to believe she could
have wound up here without his interference.
Mr. Yummy turned his back on her and returned to his
cooking. “Did anything unusual happen last night?”
At his unthreatening demeanor,
down as she slid into a seat at the kitchen table. “Not really. I went out with
a few friends to celebrate my birthday.”
“Were you drunk?” He reached above his head into a cabinet
to pull down two plates.
She gave him a sour look. “I’m thirty, not twenty-one. I had
cake. Period.”
“No ice cream?” he asked with surprise.
“No.” She gave him a peculiar look behind his back. “For
your information, I don’t really care for ice cream.”
“Then you’re not eating it right.”
dirty look but chose not to comment.
