Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (48 page)

I found it in my heart.

The End

Hey Everyone!

I really hope you enjoyed the first part Alissa and Carter’s story. Yes, you read that right, I said the first part. Thanks to some not-so-gentle prodding from my friends, I will be picking up Alissa and Carter’s story a couple of months from where it left off so we can see if they get their happily ever after. I can’t wait to find out what happens!
Watch for the expanded edition of Never to Hope coming sometime this summer.
In the meantime, if you want more Lisa, Thomas, and Madison, check out Madison’s story, Never to Keep, which is available now.

Several people have told me they want to know more about Carter, but for obvious reasons, I couldn’t get into his head without giving away lots of secrets. However, the new part will include chapters from Carter’s point of view.

Lisa’s story was never intended to be told. When I wrote Never to Keep, I considered her an extra—a throwaway character, if you will. Then, one day, the awesome Laramie Briscoe asked me to be a part of this project. Since I didn’t have any existing blue collar characters to work with, I started bouncing around ideas with my fantastic editor, Liz Aguilar. It was Liz who suggested writing about Lisa, and the rest is history. Without these two amazing ladies, this story wouldn’t exist.

This story also wouldn’t be what it is without the help and support of my wonderful group of friends, beta readers, and advisors. I’d like to send a special thank you and lots of love to Stacey, Heather, Emily, Lauren, Andrea, Caroline, Carrie, Lindsay, Shawna, the BPE beta reading team, and all of the amazing bloggers who have supported and befriended me over the past year. I’d also like to express my eternal gratitude to my critique partner, Libby Austin. She has a way of looking at things that would never even cross my mind. I am extremely fortunate to call her my friend.

Last, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank you for spending time with me. I can’t tell you how amazing it feels when someone enjoys my work. Every note I receive and positive review I read truly warms my heart.

I’d love to connect with you. You can find me online at:

Facebook like page:

https://www.facebook.com/aimie.grey

Facebook friend page:

https://www.facebook.com/aimiergrey

Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/AimieGrey

Website:

www.aimiegrey.com

Email:

[email protected]

Much love,

Aimie

Aimie Grey didn’t read a single book until she was in her early thirties. One fateful day, her friend decided to put an end to the madness and shoved a steamy romance novel under Aimie’s nose. After being forced to read one of “those” scenes, Aimie went home and bought the book, and the next one, and the one after that.

In the two years since, Aimie has read close to four hundred books. Somewhere along the way, she became frustrated with reading repetitive stories revolving around the experienced man seducing the still virginal woman. Aimie decided to take matters into her own hands and wrote her debut full length erotic romance novel
Never to Keep
.

In addition to her day job as an IT system administrator, and her evening gig as a writer, Aimie’s primary role in life is wife and mother. Aimie lives in the Midwest with her husband and two teenage daughters.

Bijou Hunter

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For more information about the series and author visit:

www.bijouhunterbooks.com

Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, and Roo for owning my heart

Mustang Sally for the millions of pep talks

Candy Girl Miranda for keeping me sane and helping me grow

Saucy Sarah, Hardcore Patty, and Seductive Stacie for knowing the genre

Damaged and the Beast

Damaged and the Knight

Damaged and the Cobra

Damaged and the Outlaw

Damaged and the Dragon

Damaged and the Bulldog

Damaged and the Saint

Little Memphis

Gator

Used

Meredith

So Long, Snoozefest

‡

S
andy Moon sounds
like the name of a party chick. Confident and sassy, she’d be someone people gossiped about on Monday mornings. Oh, did you hear what Sandy Moon got herself into last weekend?

In reality, Sandy Moon was my husband for seven years. As of a month ago, he’s officially my ex-husband.

“It’s not the seven year itch, Meredith,” he said on the day he asked for a divorce.

“Huh?”

“Like the Linda Ronstadt song.”

“Rosanne Cash,” I corrected. “And the song was
Seven Year Ache
.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sandy said, patting my hand as if I was a dog he never wanted.

I replay the conversation in my head a lot, each time reacting differently. Sometimes, I yell. Sometimes, I cry. Occasionally, I fantasize about beating him to a pulp.

In reality, I only nodded. When Sandy claimed we didn’t need lawyers, I knew he was scared of my parents’ law firm. We divorced amicably with me keeping the house and most of our savings. Through the entire process, I feel nothing. I want to believe I’m in shock, but I doubt it.

“You were bored,” my little sister Bethany says one day at lunch. “You were sleepwalking and hadn’t woken up. It’s why you didn’t slap that bitch silly.”

Bethany is impulsive and often stupid when it comes to men. With Sandy, she is spot on.

“I’ll survive this,” I say as we eat lunch.

“You were married to the most boring man in the entire fucking world,” Bethany mutters, dangling a fry from her lips like a cigarette. “And he dumped you for being too dull. Survive that, daddy’s favorite.”

The day Sandy and I signed the divorce papers, I still craved a reason to be hurt. I wanted to feel
something
about my failed marriage.

“Was it another woman?” I asked.

“No, Meredith. I told you that night. I can’t waste my life any longer. I need to live, not simply exist. Our life is tedious. I know you can’t feel how boring it is, but our life is suffocating me.”

I did feel our dull life. I simply wasn’t as weak as my banker turned wild man ex-husband. I accepted the boredom and chose not to whine. Now I am divorced.

“What comes next?” I ask Bethany and our best friend Maria Zulma during another lunch at our favorite cafe.

“You need to let loose,” Zulma announces. “Stay up late, don’t shave your legs, get drunk, and find a man that’ll make your toes curl.”

Bethany snorts. “If you want to catch a sexy bastard, shaving your legs will probably come in handy.

Nodding, Zulma laughs. “Yes. Very true. You have those long legs. Wax them up really shiny then go to a bar and attack a real man. No more weak losers like Sandy. Get a man who doesn’t sneeze around animals or giggle when he hears the word pussy.”

“Zulma isn’t wrong. Those giraffe legs will draw you plenty of attention in a bar. You find one hot guy and make no promises. Hell, no names. Just go wild and fuck until you forget you wasted ten years on a douche.

“Ten years,” I say, thinking back to when I met Sandy in college. “I knew he was the one that first day. The perfect boring husband.”

Bethany rolls her bright blue eyes. “You need to let loose and I have the perfect guy.”

Flash forward to the Monday after my first blind date. The experience is a reminder that my little sister harbors a deep-seated hatred for me.

“He was awful,” I tell Bethany at a coffee house. “He smelled weird.”

“That’s his pipe. Or his bong. I can’t remember what he was into.”

Bouncing her son Alejandro, Zulma laughs. “
Beth Anytime
gave you her sloppy seconds. I hope you didn’t catch anything.”

I share Zulma’s smile while Bethany shrugs. She’s never minded her slut nickname. I often suspected she either started the nickname or at least helped spread it around our high school.

“Isn’t there a way for me to cut loose without dating someone gross?”

“Why date?” Bethany asks. “Why not party? You spent all that time with a dull ass schmuck. You’ll need to fuck a lot of wild men to wake up your bored-to-death pussy.”

“Poetic, twerp.”

Bethany grins. “This weekend, we’ll get drunk and find you a man to fuck. Someone who isn’t marriage material. A guy looking for a good time. With you waxed, I’m sure we can bait someone decent.”

“I don’t know.”

Bethany grabs my hand dramatically. “You were dumped by the most boring person on the face of the planet because he found you too fucking dull. You’re in desperate need of letting loose and being bad. Now shut the fuck up and let me teach you how to have fun.”

Despite her less than inspiring pep talk, my idiot sister is right. I’ve spent my life being practical except for a few wild months in high school. I married a nice guy, got a good education, worked hard at my stable job, and saved money for a house in a safe neighborhood. Despite my solid planning, I end up divorced months before my thirtieth birthday.

It is time to try something else.

Winston

Just Call Me Woody

‡

B
ad women are
my poison. Been that way all my life. They cheat on me. Steal my shit. Disrespect my family. The last one even hit me over the head with my laptop. She is the last straw, so I’m swearing off bad women.

I need a good woman. Hell, I don’t even have high standards. I just want someone I can turn my back on without worrying about my safety.

After I dump the last chick, my brother Kemp offers to set me up with a nice girl he knows from the gym. His wife Mira then begs me to go out with a girl she knows from work. Everyone seems to know a girl I should date. No way am I stooping to a setup. I’ll find a woman on my own.

My blood brothers and those in my club already snatched up the only good girls I know. Some guys in the club are married to women who’ll tear off their nuts over hurt feelings. Those men thrive on the drama. I figured I was the same way. I was wrong.

The last one was Nomie. She was an adorable attention whore and dumber than a doorknob. She often couldn’t figure out the easiest shit, like how to work the laptop she brained me with. Her stupidity made me feel like a king though.

I was her hero for remembering her passwords. I was her knight in shining armor for finding her keys on the table where they always were. I was a sensitive poet for nodding obediently while she whined about her latest drama.

Nomie was easy except when she wasn’t then she wasn’t worth the effort. Eventually, I needed her to remember passwords and locations of keys. After a long day at the construction site, I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her made up problems. I needed her to be a grownup. Unfortunately, I mentioned this desire to her and she reacted in her normal drama whore way.

No more stupid chicks, drama queens, or bad girls who wanted to feel me up while my mom gave Thanksgiving speeches. I’m done with the bullshit even if I have no idea where to find a good girl.

While I’m not a religious man, God proves His existence the night Meredith Gordon walks back into my life.

Our eyes meet and she smiles in the sloppy way women smile when they’re drunk off their asses. I know she’s been partying hard before arriving at the bar. I also realize she doesn’t remember me.

I remember her though.