Unlike Any Other (Unexpected #1)

Unlike Any Other and the Unexpected series began with a simple thought—more like a question.

Have you ever watched a movie, a favorite television series, or listen to a band play some music, and seem to connect with the artist? Believe they are a part of your life?

But, do we really know them?

And this is where I was stumped, we don’t, and that led me to thinking about how many secrets they must harbor.

What is behind closed doors?

That question brought into mind several scenarios. Scenarios that made me wonder what happens to the children and to the people they love. And that’s how AJ’s story began to shape in my head.

It all started with a girl named AJ and her famous parents who protected her and her brothers from the real world for years.

I talked it through with a couple of people before I dared to write it, which led to the scenario changing a few times. For several months, I wrote about these two characters, their backstory, tweaked it, and finally send it to the beta readers who loved the plot but felt something was missing.

In my mind, this was a stand-alone book with a sweet, intriguing love story about family, loyalty, and the reality of life.

However, that was the tip of the iceberg. I had in my hands the stories of not only two characters, but also several extraordinary humans who fight against the odds, their demons, and life’s bitter surprises to find a piece of happiness.

After many revisions, our Unexpected series goes as follows:

Unlike Any Other
~ Gabe’s story

Unsurprisingly Complicated
~ Mason’s story.

Uncharted
~ Jacob (JC’s) story

Uncut
~ Matthew (MJ’s) story

Unable to Forget
~ Porter’s story

By now, you are probably wondering where AJ is—especially since she was the inspiration behind this series. Don’t worry though—she’s everywhere. While you enjoy the story of each of our characters, you’ll follow her struggles of trying to stay sane around her group of guys.

After you finish the book, and if you enjoyed it. Please, do me a big favor and leave a review. Let other readers know about it and spread the word.

Thank you much,

Claudia
♥

To Andie, who fights for the rights of every living thing.
I love you.

2015

I step out of Eleanor—my lime green VW Beetle—press the alarm key and take a glance at the neighborhood. The row-house architecture emulates the brownstone structures that we found in almost every city in the East Coast, but with a Texan twist. A warm combination of stucco and stone on the exterior with heavy timber balconies and iron accents.

I climb the steps to ring the bell but get sidetracked by the mums on each side of the door. It reminds me of how much I miss living in a house where I can plant flowers galore. Not that my studio isn’t pretty or the two plants I own aren’t appreciated. It’s just…
don’t go there, Ainsley, stay in the present
.

Right, the present
. I have a mission to accomplish—Operation Gobble-Gobble. As usual, the door is unlocked and opens when I wiggle the handle.

“Honey, I’m home,” I holler as I step onto the rubber mat, wiping my feet and turning on the light in the small foyer.

The heavy steps on the wood floor drag my attention for a few seconds from scanning the place.

“We don’t have all night, AJ,” Ryker Finn scolds as he ushers me inside the condo.

The plaid cherry color couch adorned with big orange pillows never ceases to make me cringe every time I enter his home. Must be the pattern. After grabbing my phone, I place my messenger bag and my light jacket on top of it and give a quick scan of the living room. Mustard color walls, black and white pictures of the Eiffel Tower, a ballerina, and the sky and mountains.

I can’t marry these decorations with the tall, blond, husky football coach.

Why am I here?

My original plan for tonight included writing some music and watching a marathon of 80’s romcoms to kick-off my Thanksgiving week. It seemed like a good idea at the time and sounded better than visiting Ryker. Except, as I watched
You Got Mail
and Meg Ryan celebrated Thanksgiving with her boyfriend and friends, it hit me. I wanted to spend the holidays with someone.

The best solution, I came up with, was calling my… boyfriend. I phoned him and the call didn’t go as I planned.

“AJ, glad you’re calling,” he answered. No greetings or introductions to his newfound happiness. “Sweetheart, why don’t you swing by. I have a game tomorrow and I want you, babe.”

Yes, I’m responding to a booty call. My fault. My call didn’t include the booty part; he came up with the idea all by himself. Obviously, I said yes—a girl has her needs.

Ryker raises a blond eyebrow, tilts his head toward the hallway and crosses his muscular arms waiting for me to follow. He doesn’t like me to linger around the living room area. Our routine is to step into the house, make out while heading to the bedroom, and finish up with having sex.

“Sorry, the couch…” I scrunch my nose. “You really can’t buy a new one?”

There are pretty inexpensive ones at the second-hand furniture store down on Main. I know because I worked there two years ago during the holiday season. But, of course, I don’t mention it, as my mission is to score an invite, not to piss him off.

“No AJ, my roommate bought it.”

Right, the mysterious ‘roommate’ who is never around. Six months and I’ve yet to meet him. The couch isn’t the point of my visit, for Ryker, it’s having sex and for me… changing my annual holiday trend. For the first time in three years, I plan to celebrate them. At least Thanksgiving, which is next Thursday.

Minus six days and counting.

Ryker and I have been seeing each other for about six months. Enough time to invite the familyless girl to join him for a dinner, right?

He hadn’t mentioned a thing and I could wait, but… I’m cutting it too close already.

Earlier, I talked myself into asking. My parents always said:
“What’s the worst thing that can happen? If they say no, you’re back to where you began.”

“Thanksgiving is almost here,” I state the obvious.

Ryker grumbles something and directs me to his room. Like usual, the comforter is gone and there’s only the sheets and blanket on top.

“As I was saying,” I speak, but Ryker doesn’t take notice. He kisses my neck and pulls off my dress.

“Fuck, I swear you have the best lingerie in this world,” he grunts and kisses my shoulder blades. “Take off the pump, AJ.”

A strange statement coming from him, he’s an older man—late thirties. It’s easy to assume that being a football coach and having experience would’ve led him to women who wore better underwear than a twenty-four-year-old.

Ryker taps my pump lightly; I remove his hand and shake my head.

“No, the pump stays. After six months, you should know better.”

Ryker has a problem with my insulin pump. Every guy, I sleep with, has a problem with it. Sorry, but I don’t have a pancreas that works well enough to produce insulin on demand.

“Talking about six months.”
Do it, AJ. You set yourself up to succeed in this mission; take the chance.
“You know that I don’t have a family to spend the holidays with… why don’t you invite me to enjoy it with you?”

“Uh, you celebrate the holidays?” his question follows with two wide eyes and a confused
hmm
that doesn’t sit well in the pit of my stomach.

“Yes, I do celebrate holidays,” I answer, controlling my tone so I don’t sound like an annoying girl. “And it’ll be nice if you invited me to spend it with your family.”

“You’re shitting me, right?” his southern accent deepens. “Why would I want to bring you home when you’re only a romp between the sheets?”

Ouch, that hurts somewhere. In fact, his question hits me right through the heart. Why not call me a cold bitch? Not that my heart hurts. My pride, maybe? My back tenses and I’m shrinking in size. Yes, it’s definitely my pride he wounded.

“I’m more than that.” My protest isn’t acknowledged as he unhooks my bra slipping the straps down my arms.

Really, after calling me his… fuckgirl, he thinks I’ll continue this? Fuck that, I’m leaving.

The feathery kisses, he places along my back, are making me doubt myself though. Okay, one more time and then I’ll head home and move on… yes?

“Not once have I ever seen you leave,” he comments as a matter of fact.

“That’s because after you dispose of the condom, you doze off,” I complain of his poor performance. There are times I don’t orgasm at all and he doesn’t care.

“If you stayed… nevermind. You’re unattainable, AJ.”

Unattainable? I’ll tell you what I am: a lonely person with no holiday plans. The girl who is back to square one. I have no one to spend my holidays with. What is wrong with him? I want to shake him until he understands my point of view. It’s just dinner, I don’t expect him to drop on one knee and propose. Or to score another invitation. For Christmas, I’ll make other plans.

Oh well, another year going to the deli section of Whole Foods to buy a couple of slices of turkey, some mashed potatoes, green beans, and a smidge of pie.

“Come on, babe, don’t be difficult.” He takes off my boots and socks then slips down my panties. “Tomorrow I have a big game, the faster we finish this, the earlier I can go to sleep.”

Yes, let’s get done with the task of fucking AJ and then head to bed. Ryker tears the foil square… the man is already slipping in the condom.

Great, no foreplay.

Today I don’t care, I’ll brush my clit while he’s plunging himself inside me. I don’t give a shit if he complains about me emasculating him.

It’s just sex, nothing special…

Special disappeared years ago.