Conservative Affairs

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Authors: Riley Scott

BOOK: Conservative Affairs
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Table of Contents

Cover

Synopsis

Title Page

Copyright Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bella Books

Synopsis

Jo Carson has spent months biting her tongue and biding her time working in Mayor Madeline Stratton’s office. That she doesn’t share the mayor’s politics is her secret, and it’s not the only secret she’s keeping in conservative Oklahoma City.

Madeline Stratton believes that you reap what you sow. Yes, she has allowed her marriage to become one of bitter expedience, but she is devastated by the magnitude and viciousness of her husband’s sudden scandal that erupts into off-color headlines and late night comedy routines.

When her young staffer offers a hideout no one will suspect she gratefully accepts—and finds Jo’s sympathy and advice increasingly useful and needed. Until one night feelings far beyond gratitude will no longer go away…

Copyright © 2014 by Riley Scott

 

Bella Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 10543

Tallahassee, FL 32302

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

First Bella Books Edition 2014

eBook released 2014

 

Editor: Medora MacDougall

Cover Designer: L. Callaghan

 

ISBN: 978-1-59493-402-5

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

About the Author

In addition to having published poetry and short stories, Riley Scott has worked as a grant and press writer and holds a degree in journalism. A chunk of life spent in the Bible Belt has given her a close-up look at the struggle for balance between love and church, home and state. She is a proud New Mexican with a strong love for green chile, dogs, and lively literature.

Dedication

For every girl who has ever felt like she couldn’t share her story, for all the loved ones who have given me the courage and strength to live my own, and for all who have supported, inspired, and encouraged my dreams.

 

Jo stared at the screen of her laptop, fingers hovering above the keys, yet unable to strike.

In three hours, she had written one word. “Bullshit.” It stared back at her from the screen, seeming to resonate within her. It summed up her life pretty well—certainly her job at least.

She finished the last few gulps of her beer and crunched the can, satisfied to have something fold under her pressure. Lately she was the one folding and giving in to whatever her boss wanted.

Most days she got along fine, pretending and dancing on the tightrope that everyone in politics had to manage, but today’s assignment was simply too much.

Maybe that’s why she had put it off until after her trip to the bar. Nonetheless, Jo had to find some way to write a speech for her boss advocating for the so-called “Defense of Marriage Act.”

How great would it be if her ultraconservative boss just got up and recited what Jo had written? “DOMA is bullshit.” Jo grinned, picturing the agape mouths of reporters, supporters and everyone else present. It would be a glorious day—but also her last one as an employee of the mayor’s office. Unfortunately, Jo had to stick to the guidelines she had been given.

Not that they were really guidelines, she thought. They were more like the spewings of a homophobic monster frothing at the mouth and uttering Tarzan-like phrases: “Man and woman, good. Man and man, perverted. Woman and woman, abomination.” Add in some lines from the Bible and maybe a line or two about how gays are out to destroy the universe and families, and she’d have the speech written.

Time to channel your inner judgmental church girl. Shouldn’t be that hard for a preacher’s kid whose mommy is still praying and pushing for a white wedding.

She thought about her upbringing in the church, the exposure to the judging and being judged and sighed. “Hate the sin, not the sinner.”

She clasped her hands over her mouth, realizing she had spoken the words aloud.

“Shit,” she whispered. The sounds emanating from her bedroom told her that her latest mistake had woken up and was getting ready to leave. The night’s events came blaring back with the speed and force of a giant semitruck. Not only had she decided to blow off steam at the bar after work, ignoring her deadline, but she had also brought home a one-night stand. She closed her eyes, wishing away the conversation that was impending, as the noise of footsteps sounded again in her bedroom.

She had to stop doing this. Sooner or later, it was all going to come back and bite her in the ass. When it did, there’d be hell to pay. Headlines shouting the news, all her secrets laid bare, no job…and no family.

At twenty-seven, people were supposed to be a little more at peace with their lives, weren’t they? If so, she was certainly an exception.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of her bedroom door.

“Uh, hi…” The gorgeous blond spoke awkwardly. “I didn’t know where you had gone to, so I thought I’d take off.”

Lauren…or Laura…or maybe Lisa.
The name just simply would not come to Jo’s mind.

“All right. Have a good night,” Jo said instead.

“Thanks, I had a good time,” the blond continued. “What are you doing up, by the way? It’s four a.m.”

“Just working on some stuff for the morning.”

“Oh, that’s right. You said you were a law student, right, Sarah?”

Jo simply nodded and forced a smile. “That’s right.”

“Okay, well, call me.” With that the blond was gone.

“Sarah, the law student…” Jo laughed to herself. She was getting too old to play these games. She wasn’t a law student; she was a professional liar. Camping out in the closet did that to people. Not that she had much choice, given how high-profile her family was and her job. She couldn’t have girls running around telling people they’d slept with Jo Carson.

Still, everyone needed a good lay every now and again, so she had perfected the art of deception, just as she had perfected the art of attracting just about every woman she’d ever desired. Sometimes, she silently joked to herself, she could basically talk a girl out of her clothes. With eyes that dazzled and words that dripped of sweet honey, she had had her way with as many women as she wanted—but never for more than one night and never out in the light of day. Jo wasn’t sure if that made her a superhero or a super villain, but either way, she’d take it.

Stretching her neck from side to side, she tried to think back to the sex she’d had with the blond or the buzz still rolling around in her head from the beer. All she could think of, though, was that stupid DOMA speech and what a hypocrite she was.

She had to write the speech. She needed this job to prove herself professionally. If she wanted a future as a writer in any shape or form, this was her foot in the door. Besides which, people like Jo Carson didn’t just come out of the closet. There was too much at stake. There was always too much at stake for the offspring of Michael Carson, who didn’t dare be anything but perfect cookie-cutter children.

She was reminded of that every time she called home. Her sisters, Tori and Alli, had dutifully acquired everything a good little Carson was supposed to have—the dashing husband, the kids, the nice little suburban house—and her mom never let her forget it.

Blah, blah, blah. Jo had heard it all before—and it was getting worse. Last time they had spoken, her mom had thrown her for a loop. “You’re going to meet him this year, I just know it.”

“Who, Mom?” Jo had asked, hoping that she didn’t already know the answer.

“Well, your Mr. Right, of course, darling. I just have a feeling. You’ll meet him this year, and then we can plan another wedding. Now I’ve been thinking, turquoise would be a beautiful accent color, and you could use black for the bridesmaids’ dresses…”

Jo had stopped listening. Martha Carson had gone into overdrive while planning both Tori’s and Alli’s weddings and was dying to see her middle child walk down the aisle. Nothing in the world was worth having to listen to her planning yet another wedding.

Would she have any interest at all if she knew the person I wanted to marry was female?
Jo couldn’t help but wonder, though she knew the answer. Of course she wouldn’t. It would roil the empire her family had worked to create, and it would divide the Carsons forever. She had a pretty solid feeling that even her sisters would turn their backs on her if it ever came to that.

With a sigh, Jo ran her fingers through her long dark hair.

“Well, Jaws,” she said, reaching down to pet the shih tzu half asleep at her feet. “It looks like it’s time to spread some hate.”

Chapter One

The all-too-familiar ding of her work-issued BlackBerry produced a stinging pain in Jo’s right temple. She craned her head to the side to crack her sore neck, then opened the email.

“Meet me in my office in 5. Need to discuss DOMA speech.–M”

Unable to do anything else, Jo burst into laughter.
Whatever could good old “M” want to discuss about the DOMA speech?

For a brief moment, she fantasized about coming out right there in her boss’s office. “Ma’am,” she’d start. It was always best to be polite and recognize authority—or so she’d been taught. “The reason your DOMA speech isn’t quite up to your standards is because you asked me to write it and I might possibly be the biggest vagina lover on the planet.”

Stifling her laugh and shaking her head, Jo gathered up a notebook and headed off to receive a list of rewrites.

Calm, steady and collected, she knocked lightly on the door and prepared to turn on the charm.

While she waited for permission to enter, she ran her fingers over the elaborate brass nameplate on the solid oak door. “Madeline Stratton, Mayor of Oklahoma City.” It wouldn’t have been out of place in a European palace; like almost everything in the office, it was over the top. Although the ornate décor was largely a holdover from the previous administration, anyone who had observed Madeline’s air of authority and her ability to captivate an entire audience at first entrance into a room could have easily assumed she was the one who had decreed it to be so extravagant. Jo knew that was not the case, though. Reflecting upon her boss’s true demeanor made her smile, despite the uncomfortable task awaiting her.

“Josephine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jo replied, sticking her head in the door. “Are you ready to see me?”

The Honorable Madeline Stratton waved her hand welcomingly and nodded. “Of course. Come on in and have a seat.”

Jo cleared her throat and took the offered seat. “So, about the speech…” she began.

The mayor held up her right hand to silence Jo. “First things first, Josephine. I liked the overall tone of the speech. It flows nicely. Ups and downs in the right places, good message points, everything.”

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