Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
But Chase Wheaton isn’t just any man ...
... he’s my mom’s ex-husband!
What were the chances!?!?
I try to cancel the transaction.
I promise to give back the money.
I won’t waste another moment of the alpha male’s time.
But the billionaire smirks, those blue eyes searing my curves. He towers over me, huge and dominant, six pack abs on display. Then, a sly smile comes over that mobile mouth as something *huge* jerks in his trousers.
Relax, little girl, he rasps. There’s no need to panic ...
... because I’m here to CLAIM MY PRIZE.
I wasn’t expecting much. Just another night at the Citadel where pretty young things are auctioned to the highest bidder. But when the spotlight comes on, I do a double take because it’s my ex-wife’s daughter on stage!
But Haley’s not a little girl anymore ...
... she’s blonde and beautiful ...
... sassy and feisty ...
... and holy hell, but the young woman’s developed curves!
Immediately, I put in a bid because I’ve always been a sick f*ck, and this opportunity is too good to pass up.
After all, I’m going to teach the innocent girl the ways of a woman ...
... as I put my baby in her belly as the ultimate surprise!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Haley
“Hey Mom, how are you?” I ask while letting myself into the apartment that we share. It isn’t much, but Brenda’s done everything in her power to make it homey. There are gold and green fake fir streamers strung up around the room, as well as various holiday knickknacks scattered on tabletops. The pièce de resistance, however, is a mini-Christmas tree that my mom and I bought from the vendor down the block. The tree is probably only four feet tall, but it was hard getting it up eight flights because once again, the elevator in our building was broken.
I shouldn’t complain, though, because my mom and I live in a decent two bedroom in what’s officially known as the Glendale Towers, but what everyone calls the Projects. Decades ago, the buildings were erected as middle-class housing for returning veterans, but in the years since, they’ve fallen into disrepair. Walls are crumbling, the elevators never work, and some winter nights there’s no heat. But us residents make the best of it. More than a few of us own space heaters, and we share them despite the fact that they cost an arm and a leg to run.
But this is our lot in life, and my mom and I make do. Sure, we don’t have much, but it’s ok. I’ve been working as a barista at a nearby coffee shop full-time and it helps with the bills, although that won’t last much longer.
“How was your day, honey?” Brenda asks. My mom is pretty still, despite her physical condition. It’s a sad story because not so long ago, my mom was a looker. But a couple years back, she fell down a set of stairs which caused permanent damage. Her hip was broken, and some vertebrae cracked. A plate was implanted in her neck along with fake discs, and she’s now on a regimen of drugs that makes her swollen and puffy. Literally, she’s gained at least a hundred pounds because of the medication, but Brenda has no choice. She has to take steroids, and gets epidurals and cortisone shots regularly to control the pain.
Nonetheless, my mom’s a fighter and never complains. She didn’t complain when she fell, she didn’t complain when she ballooned, and she didn’t complain after she lost her job nannying kids. Brenda has always been optimistic, and I hate to be the one to rain on her parade.
“Well, Aroma House is good, but they told me that the most hours they can give me is twenty-five per week,” I say in a hesitant voice. “Don was really apologetic and said that as soon as business picks up, he’ll put me on the shift schedule for more hours.”
My mom’s eyebrows flew up.
“And it’s really because of lack of business?”
I sigh while looking down because I had some skepticism about this as well.
“I’m not privy to the books,” I begin in slow voice.
“But Aroma House is hopping, right?” my mom asks in an arch tone, with her eyebrows up by her forehead. “Customers are in there all hours of the day for their caffeine fix, right? I hate to tell you, baby girl, but it’s not business. Or rather it is a business decision. Your employers don’t want to offer you benefits, and so they’re cutting your hours so that they can treat you like dirt.”
I stare at the floor, biting my lip.
“But Don is so nice, and Josh—”
“Don’t Don and Josh me,” my mom says in an even tone. “Those brothers are using you, hon. They know that the threshold for benefits in Minnesota is generally thirty-two hours a week. Your bosses want to keep you humble and scared, not to mention grateful for the job, so they’re taking you down to twenty-five.”
I look down again, hurt by Brenda’s straight talk. Of course she’s right, but I genuinely like Don and Josh, and have always regarded them as mentors, or even father figures. It’s tough to realize that they don’t care about me. Despite their kindness, ultimately I’m an expense to them, and the less they have to pay me, the better. Like my mom said, it’s a business decision, even if the knowledge stings.
Brenda can read my mind and reaches for my hand in a consoling manner.
“It’s not okay,” she says in an even tone. “They’re assholes because they should be paying you more, Hales. Coffee houses always need pretty young things to work the counter. It brings in business and makes for happier customers, and you fit the bill, sweetheart. You’re young, beautiful, and innocent, and in fact, those assholes should pay you a premium for working for them instead of trying to nickel and dime you like this.”
I smile wanly.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll figure something out. I’m sure I’ll get more hours soon, except—”
“Except they already hired someone new, right? Since they can’t use you for forty hours, they went out and found another pretty young thing to stand at the cash register for minimum wage.”