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Friday, April 20, 2018

Sweet Obsession by A.M. Salinger 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (M/M Romance)



He is the one person I love more than life itself. The one person I will do my utmost to protect. The one person I can never touch — Luke

He is the only one I have ever wanted. The only man I would ever need for as long as I breathe. But he doesn’t love me. No, he hates me —Ash

Ash Colby wants nothing more than to free himself of the man who broke his heart the night he turned seventeen. But when Luke Rutherford, his former guardian and heir of Rutherford Industries, forces him to move from his quiet college life in Stanford to the other side of the world, Ash snaps and decides to confront Luke about their past.

Luke has loved Ash since he was a child and been in love with him for over half a decade. Having protected Ash from the woman who wanted to hurt the young Colby heir in the past, Luke must act swiftly in order to keep Ash safe from harm once more. But when his bold move backfires on him, Luke must face the consequences of the decision he took on the night Ash turned seventeen.

Will Ash forgive Luke when he discovers the truth behind the terrible act he witnessed five years ago? And as the walls Luke had erected to protect Ash from his lust come crumbling down around him, will he overcome his guilty conscience and finally admit his true feelings for Ash?

If you like sweet, sexy men with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to win their hearts, then you’ll love this novella in the hot, contemporary romance series Nights by A.M. Salinger. Note from the author: Although each book in Nights can be read as a standalone, you will enjoy this series even more if you read the books in order!

This is a novella length MM romance with a HFN. Luke and Ash’s HEA is coming in 2018!



This asshole!
Ash Colby scowled at his watch. He took a shallow breath, uncrossed his legs, and propped his elbows on his knees. The motion brought pain surging across his temples. The migraine had been with him for the last two hours. Although he would have loved to blame it on the humidity of Singapore’s late September monsoon season, Ash knew his current circumstances had led to the headache jackhammering against his skull. The fact that he’d just gotten off a seventeen-hour flight from San Francisco wasn’t helping either.
Ash rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before glaring at the secretary seated behind the modern walnut desk to his left.
“He knows I’m waiting, right?” Ash snapped.
John Peace sighed and nudged his smart, black-rimmed specs up his nose.
“Yes, Ash. Luke is aware that you’ve been waiting a while.”
“Forty fucking minutes is not a while, John,” Ash said between gritted teeth.
“Language, Ash,” the secretary murmured.
Ash looked around the chic marble and wood waiting room overlooking a panoramic vista of the dazzling city and sun-kissed bay beyond the glass wall behind the secretary’s desk.
“There’s no one else here.”
John ignored Ash’s acerbic observation and studied him steadily.
“You look a bit peaky. Would you like some water?”
Ash scowled. He knew the secretary was only trying to be helpful, but he was past caring at this point.
“No, I don’t want fucking water, John. I want to know why my lord and master has summoned me all the way here from Stanford five days before term starts.”
Ash couldn’t help grind his teeth as he recalled the terse phone conversation from two days ago. The motion exacerbated the band of tension gripping his head and raised his ire further.
“Luke would like to see you,” John had said coolly when he’d called Ash at eight on a Sunday morning.
Ash frowned as he walked through the front door of his condo. He dropped his gym bag on a chair and headed to his bedroom.
“What’s this about, John?” he said, irritated. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, and fell backward onto the sheets. “And when did he get back to San Francisco?”
John hesitated. “He isn’t in San Francisco.”
Ash blinked at the ceiling before slowly sitting up, his incredulity quickly turning to anger.
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me Luke is in Singapore and he wants me to go there to see him? Fuck no!” he growled.
John sighed. “This is important, Ash. You know Luke wouldn’t make such a request unless it was an urgent matter.”
Ash rubbed a hand across his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no denying the truth in the secretary’s words.
Luke Rutherford, Ash’s former guardian and the current custodian of his rather substantial trust fund, was not a fickle man.
Ash inhaled shakily and tried to quell his rising temper. “Can you at least tell me what this is—”
Someone took the phone from John.
Ash froze when Luke came on the line.
“A car is coming to pick you up in thirty minutes. Pack a bag and be ready. The jet’s already at the airport.”
Ash stared blindly ahead as the line suddenly went dead. He listened to the dial tone for a stunned moment before flinging the phone across the room and throwing himself back on the bed. A cry of rage left Ash’s lips as he raked his hands through his hair. Despite the fury and frustration burning in his veins at Luke’s outrageous command, Ash could not help the shudder of awareness that raced through him after hearing Luke’s voice.
It had been over a year since they last spoke.
For one insane moment, Ash considered not obeying the man who quite literally owned him, body and soul. The man he had been in love with for as long as he could remember. The man who had broken his heart and shattered his dreams five years ago, on the night of Ash’s seventeenth birthday.
The thought of the possible reprisals Luke would visit upon him if he did not get on that plane sent a quiver of apprehension through Ash. The guy was capable of anything. Just as Luke had promised, the car arrived promptly at eight thirty and Ash lifted off from San Francisco International Airport an hour later.
Ash sighed, his thoughts returning to his current predicament as he leaned back on the expensive Barcelona chair and propped his feet on the coffee table. He ignored John’s disapproving stare and indicated the walnut door opposite from where he sat with a jerk of his head.
“So, who does he have in there? Must be someone damn important if he’s ignoring me for this long.” Ash paused. “Not that the asshole doesn’t ignore me on a regular basis anyway.”
John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t keep calling Luke an asshole, Ash. And, yes, he’s got his asset manager in with him right now. Mr. Sorvino flew in from Tokyo yesterday and is heading straight to Japan after their meeting.”
“Yippee for Mr. Sorvino,” Ash muttered. “Lucky bastard. I hope I’m back on the jet tonight as well.”
John hesitated. He opened his mouth and closed it soundlessly.
A tendril of unease shot through Ash as he stared at the secretary’s face. He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” John murmured.
Ash was still studying him suspiciously when Luke’s door opened. A man walked out of the office.
The stranger was tall and dark, with a commanding presence that had as much to do with his handsome face and his arresting gunmetal eyes as it did with his incredibly ripped body. Had Ash not been unreservedly in love with Luke, he would have found the guy captivating.
A figure appeared behind the asset manager. Ash’s mouth went dry when Luke stepped out of the room.
At six foot two, Luke Rutherford’s hard bodied, toned frame more than matched the man beside him. With dark hair that most women would kill to sink their hands into, finely trimmed stubble that framed a strong, angular jaw, and amber eyes that had the power to silence a crowded room, Luke Rutherford was not only sinfully attractive, he was also the embodiment of a successful businessman and billionaire.
Ash swallowed.
Sexy fucker.



Flesh Into Fire by JA Huss & Johnathan McClain 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Romantic Suspense)



Payback is owed.

And Maddie Clayton is going to collect. This time Carlos and Logan have gone too far. People are dead, lives have been changed, and she’s had enough. Plus, she’s got the Devil on her side, so when an enemy turns into a friend with an idea of how to take Carlos down, she’s in.

Tyler Morgan has been fighting back his whole adult life. He’s ready for anything when it comes to payback. But endangering Maddie can’t be part of the deal. Unfortunately for him, once Maddie gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

Her debt has been paid in blood and she wants revenge.
His fight is still there, but now he’s got more at stake than himself.

The end is coming.
But even if they win against Carlos, they can still lose each other.




TYLER

I roll our interlaced fingers over so that I can see the back of her hand. It’s strong, but delicate. Long fingers and white skin. Veins that tense with the clench of her grip. Freckles. Just a few light, faint, perfect freckles.
I have the same thought I had the other day. That I want to learn her. Her body. Every millimeter of her. I want it burned into my brain. I want to imprint her into my memory before she goes. I want to study her. I want to have a PhD in Maddie Clayton.
I let go of her hand and stand up, turn to face her and then kneel down.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I don’t say anything. She’s not wearing shoes, so I start tugging at the toes of her socks and she giggles as I work them off her legs and then hold her precious feet in my hands, examining them. I stroke the bones that run along the top, ending at the tips of her toes, and I kiss each toe one by one.
I turn them over to inspect the scar I found the other day, and I give it a kiss. Then I spread her legs and slide in between them, popping my head up to give her a kiss on the lips, before I unbutton her jeans and draw down the zipper. She leans back, propping herself on her elbows, and shimmies her hips as I pull her pants down. They’re so tight on her, so fitted, that they draw her underwear along with them as I pull, and then the pants are off her body and on the floor, and her bare calves, and knees, and thighs, and pussy are there for me to explore.
Still leaning back on her elbows, she tilts her head to the side, presses her lips together in a tight smile, and raises her eyebrows at me.
I lift one of her legs and place my face right next to it. Like an archaeologist exploring the contours of a priceless, ancient artifact.
Her smell. Her smell will be the thing that I know I will hold onto most. It’s always been that way for me. Smell is the most potent sense I have when it comes to triggering memories. When I smell cinnamon, I remember my mom. Because she was baking when she collapsed that last time after chemo. And so that’s the smell I choose to associate with my final memory of her, as opposed to the antiseptic smell of the hospital. Because that wasn’t her anymore anyway. Mom stayed in the kitchen. Only the shell of her stuck around for a couple weeks more in the hospital bed.
Anyway.
Right now, Maddie smells like freshly cut grass. She’s been packing and getting ready to leave all day, and it’s been weirdly warm of late, so she’s a little sweaty. And that smell—that pungent, dense, round smell of sweat on her skin that fills my nostrils—reminds me of summer. Which I love. Because I suppose that means that for the rest of my life, there’ll be an entire season where every day all I’ll be able to think about is her. Even though I don’t imagine needing a lot of prompts to steer my thoughts in her direction.
As I stroke my fingers along her leg, kissing as I go, and drinking in her scent with every breath, she drops down from her elbows, letting herself lie flat on her back, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. She traces her fingers up and down the line of her stomach, pushing her t-shirt up to the curve of her breasts as I continue my survey of her flesh.
I’m discovering things. Things that no one else on earth besides me will know.
Her right calf appears just infinitesimally stronger than her left. Her left knee is the teeniest bit knobbier than her right. And when I kiss her behind either of her knees, she shudders through her stomach, causing her toes to crinkle.
As I pass the bend in her knee, I draw my nose along the inside of her thigh. She wriggles a teeny bit as my beard moves along her soft skin. And then my mouth is right at the brink of her entrance. I take my thumb and run it along the pink folds and she lets out a “mmmmm.” I tilt my head, studying my fingers as they massage her tender skin, and take note of what sound each gesture evokes from her.
Kissing tenderly on her opening causes her to growl from somewhere deep inside her throat. So I do. I kiss, and I let my warm breath signal my presence, but I don’t want to penetrate her. Not this way. If she wants me to be inside her, I will happily oblige, but for now I just want to be here with her and hold her close.
And I will.
And I will hold her close in my thoughts every second that she’s gone.
But more importantly...
I will hold her in my heart.


MADDIE

Some people search their whole life looking for that one place they belong. For that one person who gets them. Who brings them into their world, lets them fall easily into the pull of their gravity, and lets them just… be. Just exist. Quietly. Naturally. Freely. This is Tyler for me. The center of my universe. The man around whom I now orbit.
Not like a satellite, either. But like… like two things meant to be one. Like long ago something crashed into us, broke us into little pieces, and left us adrift. Floating in directionless space. Spinning wildly with no tether. And now we’ve been pulled back together. And we circle each other, still spinning, but with the purpose of joining. Of becoming one thing again. Not because of tragedy, the way I’d imagined when I sent that letter. It’s not a lifeline of salvation connecting us now, but some force of nature we can’t explain, or control, or bend to our will. Some law of the universe that dictates the fate of things.
We are connected by something more powerful than shared sorrow. And every moment we’ve spent apart has been valuable. Necessary. Critical.
His mouth between my legs feels wonderful. I could close my eyes and enjoy it. Let myself reach the heights of pleasure.
But alone?
No. I’m done doing things alone. We’re connected now. And everything we do will be together.
So I whisper, “Tyler,” as I caress his head. Run my fingers through his hair. Touch his shoulders. Slide my fingertips up and down the hills and valleys of his muscular arms.
He looks up at me, his eyes smiling even though they’re half closed, even though his mouth is still working. His tongue still flicking against my pussy.
“Come up here,” I say. “And kiss my mouth.”
Now he smiles with his whole face. His hands plant on either side of my hips and he draws himself up to standing. He lifts his t-shirt over his head and undoes his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, and his nakedness reminds me that he has lived every single day of his time on this earth.
He leans onto the bed and eases forward. My legs open wider for him, welcome him between them as his cock—hard, and long, and ready—rests against my clit, making me want him.
If we stopped right now, if he just rested his chest on top of my breasts, became nothing more than heavy weight as he closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell asleep… I’d be content, happy, and satisfied.
And not because there’d be more chances to do this later. But because it’s him I want. Not the sex.
He leans down, his hands on either side of my head now. Bending the mattress the way spacetime bends around a sun. And when his lips reach mine, my eyes are closed.
And I fall again.
I fall far, and long, and easily. The same way I drifted towards him. And as I drift, weightless, we kiss. But I’m still connected to him. Always next to him. Because this is what it feels like to fall into someone, not away.
This is not me slipping down the mountain.
This is not me losing my footing.
This is me finding myself. In him. In us.
So when I reach my hand between my legs and place him right where he needs to be, he enters me. And all those broken, spinning pieces come together to once again create the thing we were always meant to become.
Our bodies move together. Perfectly synchronized. Like the dance of stars in space. His body is hot, and my body is hot, and the heat we create between us doesn’t burn like fire but rearranges us. Like the molecules of two metals mixing to form the strongest sword made of the very best steel.
Our lovemaking is slow. And perfect.
We reach the heights of pleasure together. As one. And it’s the kind of climax that only happens once in a lifetime. The kind of release that means more than the way it makes you feel. It tells you who you are, and who you’re with, and exactly where you fit in the grand scheme of things.
He says, “I love you, Madison.”
And I say it back. “I love you, Tyler.”
We mold ourselves into each other as we relax and grow sleepy. Our bodies back together. His arms around me. My back pressed against his chest.
Our hearts beating. Keeping time.
Becoming what we were always meant to be.


   


Pearlman by David Russell 💕 Spotlight & EXCLUSIVE eBook Giveaway 💕(Sci-Fi Romance)



A contemporary hero travels through time and space to the legendary times in La Araucana. He meets a woman who turns out to be Auchimalgen, the Araucanian Moon Goddess. She seduces and enlightens him.

This story combines romance with sci-fi and time travel.

***Inspired by a passage in the Spanish epic poem La Araucana, which I have translated.***

About La Araucana

On scraps of paper in the lulls of fighting, [Alonso de] Ercilla jotted down versified octaves about the events of the war and his own part in it. These stanzas he later gathered together and augmented in number to form his epic. In the minds of the Chilean people La Araucana is a kind of Iliad that exalts the heroism, pride, and contempt of pain and death of the legendary Araucanian leaders and makes them national heroes today. Thus we see Ercilla appealing to the concept of the "noble savage," which has its origins in classical authors and took on a new lease of life in the renaissance - c.f. Montaigne's essay "Des Canibales", and was destined to have wide literary currency in European literature two centuries later. He had, in fact, created a historical poem of the war in Chile which immediately inspired many imitations.

*Source & More Info: Click Here

   


Broken Series by A.L. Simpson 💕 Series Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)








Present Day
My name is Tyler Maxwell Alexander. I'm twenty-eight years old. A few months ago, I had it all. An executive job in a prestigious investment firm owned by my father. Ha! Yeah, right - father. I'll explain about that later. I lived in a waterfront apartment overlooking the harbor and drove a Mercedes convertible. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. All of it. Everything, except the fucking clothes on my back. I was broken. A bastard. Did I mention, I'm gay? No? Oh well, I have now.
This is the story of how my fairytale life turned to shit in the blink of an eye.......



Excerpt

© A.L. Simpson 2018

I spend the rest of the afternoon working on the Murphy account. A couple in their mid-fifties, like my dad, who want to earn a little extra money to help make their retirement a comfortable one. They want a third of their funds in safe investments, forty percent in low risk and the last thirty percent in high risk.
Maxine and Thomas Murphy are a nice couple and I enjoy our chats when they come to my office. They are the typical mom and dad investors our firm caters to and have one hundred and twenty thousand dollars to invest. Not much to a business like ours. It's five in the evening when I close the file, satisfied I have placed their money wisely.
My phone buzzes and I smile as the message flashes on the screen. It's Ryan. "Good for tonight? 6pm at Riccardo's?"
I text back, "yes" before pushing the chair back and standing. The files, previously scattered all over my desk, are placed back in their folders in a walnut cabinet by the wall. I check nothing is left out before turning the key in the lock to secure them for the night. That's something else that pisses me off - dad will only allow old fashioned hardcopy files. He doesn't know, that against his instructions, I also have them on my computer. I swear to fucking God, my father and brother are dinosaurs.
I leave my office and am halfway down the hallway to the elevator when dad calls from behind. I groan, wondering what he'll want now. Turning around, I wait for him to approach.
"Dad?"
"Where are you going?"
"Out for a drink with a friend." Not that it's any of your fucking business.
He raises an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?"
Yeah, nope, he doesn't know I'm gay. None of my family are privy to that tidbit of information. While mom and my brother would not take it well, dad would fucking lose it. He's by far the worst bigot I know. I can see it now, the explosion of his temper would catapult us into the fucking stratosphere. Nope, definitely not going to give him that piece of information anytime soon, if ever.
"No, friend from school. Why?"
Dad shoves his hands in the pockets of his Gucci pants and lowers his eyes to the floor.
I follow his line of sight wondering what is suddenly so interesting down there. His feet shuffle about and I wonder what he is so nervous about.
"Dad?"
He lifts his eyes to mine and licks his lips. Hmmm, definitely nervous.
"Samuel didn't get the account."
"I could say, I told you so." I'm a smug sonofabitch. He's taught me some things well.
"Yeah, well there's more." Dad swallows so hard, his Adam's apple moves from the bottom of his throat to the top at the speed of an express elevator. "Pope wants to leave four hundred thousand with us, like he told you, for high risk investment. The rest he is taking from us. He will only stay if you handle his account."
"Why me? You said yourself, Samuel would do a better job." I can't resist throwing his earlier sarcastic words back in his face.
"He said he'll go high risk and pay our thirty percent only with you because you've never let him down. He only trusts you."
I lean against the wall, cross one leg over the other and fold my arms over my chest. "You said the account was no longer mine so I'm focusing on other clients now." I'm enjoying doing this to the fucker, making him sweat. As an executive of the company, I can accept or refuse any account as I see fit. Dad knows this and he also knows, he's rubbed me the wrong way.






Callie McKenzie hadn't had a good introduction to life.
A drug addicted mother caught in the crossfire of a bar shootout saw her dumped in the foster system at the age of thirteen.
Life finally seemed to take a turn for the better when she was offered adoption by a kindly couple but, she knew it couldn't last. Tragedy puts an end to her dream of a happy life when she is taken to the isolated farm of an abusive distant relative.
At the age of seventeen, beaten and bruised, fearing for her life, Callie flees.
In the dead of night, on a lonely road, Jake Prentiss - President of a motorcycle club, finds her stumbling to freedom.
In the weeks that follow she is slowly pieced back together and falls hard for her knight in shining leather. It doesn't last long and tragedy once again strikes.
At the age of eighteen, Callie finds herself alone again and in prison.
Her cousin always said she was a BITCH.
Now, she was also BROKEN.



© A.L. Simpson 2018

CHAPTER ONE

CALLIE
The Past
At thirteen years old, I was alone. I had no-one and nothing.
My mama had been a part-time bartender at the Grey Turtle bar in a seedy part of downtown Foster near where we lived. Home had been a dingy one-bedroom apartment with next to no furniture, no heating, peeling paintwork and black mold spreading over the walls and ceilings. Mama preferred her drug fix to food and somewhere decent to live.
Three months ago, while working the bar, she’d been caught in the crossfire of a shootout between two gangs. She died instantly. It was three days later before I found out. I’d been making a stale-bread sandwich when a knock came at the door. It was a Child Protective Services Officer who told me about mama and took me away. Why didn’t I know before then, you ask? It wasn’t unusual for mama to take off with a couple of druggies from the area and return several days later.
Most days I took myself off to school, they never questioned my scruffy appearance, as most of the kids from where I lived were the same.
So, off I went with a lady called Giselle. She took me to her office and I sat quietly while she made a phone call.
"Petra, it’s Giselle. I have a thirteen-year-old girl who I need an urgent placement for."
Giselle paused and listened to someone on the other end of the phone before speaking again.
"I have a couple in mind for her, shouldn’t be any longer than three months."
She paused and listened again.
"Thanks. I’ll bring her by tonight."
She hung up the phone and turned to me.
"I'm going to take you to a home where you’ll be looked after while we search for your father. Do you know his name?"
"Nope. Mama said he was a stranger passing through town and all he wanted was her pussy in exchange for some drugs."
"Did your mother use drugs often?"
"All the time."
"Who took care of you, bought your clothes, cooked?"
"I took care of myself and cooked. Clothes came from the Goodwill bin."
Giselle sighed and patted my hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Rostenkowski will be paid money by the Government to feed and clothe you so, you won’t have to worry about that anymore."
"I’m not worried, I’ve looked after me and mama for as long as I can remember."
"Well, now you get to be a young girl. Did you attend school?"
"Yes. Foster City."
Giselle frowned. She obviously knew how rough the area was. "Are your grades good?"
"Very, I like school and my grades are better than the other kids."
She nodded and I could see that look in her eyes which said, that’s one thing you have going for you. Heaven knew I didn’t have anything else.
I was delivered into misery that very same evening.
****
"Callie, get your skinny ass down here now." Mrs. R, as she allowed me to call her, bellowed and I wondered what I’d done now.
I raced down the stairs and found her in the kitchen cleaning up Joel, her biological two-year-old. He was covered in white powdery goop.
"I told you to keep an eye on him while I brought the laundry in."
She hadn’t, but after three months in this house, I’d learned, you didn’t argue. "I’m sorry, would you like me to take him upstairs and bath him?"
She thrust one of his little arms toward me. "Yes, get him cleaned up before his father comes home and sees what you’ve let him do."
I scooped the little boy into my arms and hurried away. He’s a sweet little fella and the light in the darkness of my existence. I closed the bathroom door after we entered, and after turning on the water and ensuring it wasn’t too hot, I stripped him of his white covered clothing.
"Fun, Cawee."
I couldn’t help but laugh. "I can see you had fun."
Once he was undressed, I swept him into my arms and lowered him into the bath. He kicked his chubby legs, clapped his hands and chuckled when I threw in his plastic duck and a boat.
"I have to wash your hair, you have sticky goop stuck in it."
He gave me a look of sheer panic. "Noooo, Cawee. No wash hair."
"Sorry, bud, I can’t leave it like that. If you’re a good boy, I’ll read you a story when we’re done."
"Okay."
Washing the little boy's hair was uneventful, I think the thought of it scared him more than the actual doing. In no time at all, he was scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes.
"Let’s go and read a story while we wait for your mama to make supper."
Joel clasped my hand and I walked him downstairs to the living room. I’d no sooner sat down and the doorbell rang.
"Callie, get that." I swear half the neighborhood could hear Mrs. R when she yelled.
"Okay," I called back.
Joel followed me into the hallway and I opened the door to Giselle.
"Hi, Giselle. Do you want to see Mrs. R?"
"Yes, I need to talk with her. Is she here?"
"In the kitchen."
"Go back to what you were doing, I’ll speak with you shortly."
I closed the door, and while Giselle headed to the kitchen, I returned to the living room with Joel. He selected a book from a basket which held some of his toys and toddled toward me.
His chubby arms straightened and he held it in front of me. "Storwee, Cawee."
I lifted him onto my lap and opened the book. Joel pointed at the picture. "Owl."
"That’s right."
"Callie, can you come to the kitchen please?" Giselle stood in the doorway.
I placed Joel on the floor and encouraged him to play with his toys. Before I had left the room, he was pulling favorite cars and trucks from the depths of the basket. I followed Giselle to the kitchen where Mrs. R stood not looking happy.
"Am I in trouble?" I couldn’t think of anything I could have done wrong.
Giselle placed her hand on my arm. "Of course not, honey. I’m here to tell you, your pre-adoption has been formalized and your new parents are waiting at my office."
I wasn’t sure what to think of this news. On one hand, I wanted to jump for joy at the thought of leaving this place. I wouldn’t miss the shouting or the chores I was expected to do. I was more like an unpaid maid than a foster child. There was never enough to eat and I often went to bed hungry. The clothes I was given were only just above the garments I’d had from Goodwill. On the other hand, I would be sad to leave Joel.
"Don’t worry about packing anything unless you have something special. Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie have purchased everything you need."
"We can leave as soon as you say goodbye and thank Mrs. Rostenkowski."
I turned toward Mrs. R. "Thank you for having me. Please say goodbye to Mr. R for me."
She nodded sternly, no doubt wondering when she would receive her next slave. I didn’t bother to hug the woman, she wouldn’t know affection if it jumped up and bit her on the ass.
"I’ll just go and say goodbye to Joel." My voice was thick and tears sprang free as I trudged to the living room. I knelt down near the sweet little boy. "Joel, I have to go away."
He turned to me and smiled. "Cawee, pway?"
I drew him into my arms and kissed his chubby cheeks. "No, sweetheart. I have to go to a new home now. You be a good boy for your mama." I kissed him again, stood and rushed to the front door. Giselle was waiting for me and placed an arm around my shoulders.
"Everything will be better for you with the McKenzie’s. They have wanted a child for so long but because of their ages, they were only allowed a teenager. You’ll be good for each other."
I nodded as I sucked back a sob and followed her down the steps to her car. I climbed into the passenger seat and fastened the belt before Giselle turned the key and started the engine. We remained silent as she weaved through the streets back to her office.
****
A beautiful lady stood when we entered Giselle’s office. She was tall with long, wavy brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. When she smiled at me, I knew I was going to like her.
"You must be Callie." She offered her hand.
I gave it a tentative shake. "Yes, pleased to meet you." And, I was.
"My name is Rebecca McKenzie but I would like for you to call me mother."
I frowned, it was a bit soon for me to be calling a stranger, mother. But, I decided it was no skin off my nose. "Okay, mother."
A man stood beside her. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He stepped forward and offered me his hand. "I’m Patrick McKenzie. You can call me daddy or Mac. I’ll leave it up to you."
I shook hands and lowered my eyes, I felt shy. "Mac, I think, please."
"Mac, it is. Are you ready to leave?"
I glanced at Giselle.
"I know these people are strangers to you, Callie, but we have carefully vetted and selected them to be your adoptive parents. You will live with them for the next six months. During that time, I'll visit regularly and if everything works out, the official papers will be signed making them your legal parents."
"What happens if they decide they don’t want me?" The thought of being shuffled from foster home to foster home terrified me.
Mother crouched down and gathered my hands into hers. "Honey, we have waited a very long time for a child to call our own, we aren’t going to decide we don’t want you."
Her soothing, gentle voice set me at ease and I felt myself relax. I turned to Mac. "I’m ready."
He smiled broadly. "Let our new lives begin."
They each gathered one of my hands and, after bidding Giselle goodbye, we left the office to head home. Home, would it be everything I’d dreamed of?