Greetings from Sugartown Read online

  Smashwords Edition

  Greetings from Sugartown

  Copyright 2014 Carmen Jenner

  Published by Carmen Jenner

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction.

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

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work and for not making me set a very pissed off Elijah Cade on you.

  Published: Carmen Jenner September 9th 2014

  Editing: Lauren K McKellar

  Cover Design: Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Formatting: E.M. Tippets Book Designs

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise

  Books by Carmen Jenner

  Dedication

  Elijah

  Ana

  Elijah

  Ana

  Elijah

  Elijah

  Ana

  Elijah

  Ana

  Ana

  Elijah

  Ana

  Elijah

  Elijah

  Ana

  Elijah

  Elijah

  Epilogue

  Excerpt - Now Leaving Sugartown

  Coming Soon - Revelry

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  About the Book Designer

  Copyright Notice

  “Very dramatic, very heart wrenching, very sexy, very intense, very violent, very scary at times. Very enjoyable!”

  - Ali @ Ginger-Read Reviews

  "5 Magnificent Stars! In this heart-pounding and addictive love story, Carmen Jenner will have you laughing, crying, and become so spellbound with these small town characters that you'll never want to leave. Who ever said small town living was boring has obviously never been to Sugartown."

  - Debbie @ Keep Calm & Read Romance

  “Well, spank my ass, that was flipping awesome! My world has been rocked by Carmen Jenner's debut book, WELCOME TO SUGARTOWN.”

  - Paula @ Romantic Book Affairs

  “Welcome to Sugartown will tear you to pieces but put you back together again with its humour and host of unforgettable characters.”

  - Jo-Anne @ Worlds of Wonderment

  “I don't think I'll ever see insignificant little towns in the same light again … danger, humour, tats, bikers, loads of pie eating (snigger), and enough chemistry to blow the roof off a science lab!”

  -Leanne Pearson, Author

  "Welcome to Sugartown, prepare to have your mind completely f*#&%ed over."

  - Jess of A is for Alpha B is for Books

  "Not only was it panty-meltingly hot, it had an incredible storyline with engaging, well-developed characters."

  - Christina of Love Between the Sheets

  "This book had everything from sugar coated sweetness, humor, sexual chemistry, friendly banter, angst, dirty talks, sexual innuendos, and a surprising twist of events that will totally keep you hooked till the very end."

  - Michelle of Give Me Books

  and a half

  "You HAVE to one click Welcome to Sugartown ... Not even kidding, right now I have a fierce lady boner for Carmen Jenner. I find this lady in the flesh and I'm gonna have to hump her leg or some s**t. (99% Probability of this occurring in public)."

  - Lola Stark, Author of Needle's Kiss Series

  and a half

  Sugartown Series

  Welcome to Sugartown (Sugartown #1)

  Enjoy Your Stay (Sugartown #2)

  Greetings from Sugartown (Sugartown #3)

  Now Leaving Sugartown (Sugartown #4) Coming 2015

  Taint Series

  Revelry (Taint #1) Coming Soon

  Closer (Taint #2)

  Hurt (Taint #3)

  For the Sugar Junkies

  You girls rock my face off with your love!

  “WILL THAT be all today, Sir?” the salesgirl asks, with the sugary grin of a woman who’s about to get a hefty commission.

  I breathe a sigh of both relief and terror. “Yeah, thanks.”

  I bury my head in my hands as she saunters off to polish the glorified rock. I can’t believe I’m doing this. If you’d asked me about the marriage thing two years ago I would have tapped out of that conversation quicker than you could say man-whore, and run for the fucking hills. And I gotta be honest, right now, that’s not sounding like too bad of an idea. But here’s the deal: I love Ana more than I’ve loved anyone my entire life. She makes getting up in the morning worthwhile, you know?

  Holy mother of cunt-cakes, this is a huge fucking step for us … for me, and I just want to make sure I’m not doing the right thing for the wrong reasons.

  Snap out of it, dickhead, she’s the best thing to happen to you. I give myself a tap on the cheek while the salesgirl has her back turned to me. If I thought I could get away with punching myself in the face without looking like a member of Fight Club I’d probably do it just to escape the freak-out going on inside my head. I’m sure about what I’m doing here. But it doesn’t make it any bloody easier. I still worry I’m not the best thing for her, and I wonder all the time what might have happened if I’d never rode into town. I gotta say, though, bipolar episode in overpriced jewellery stores aside, I’ve never been happier. And that’s the reason I’m here right now.

  The woman comes back and presents me with a very shiny vintage bauble before snapping the lid closed on the tiny box. The sound rings in my ears, so loud it’s deafening. My breath comes a little faster, my palms sweat, and my hands shake. Shit. I may or may not be about to pass out right now. I’m blowing four years’ worth of savings on a diamond. A diamond I’m not even sure she’ll want to wear for the rest of her life.

  “Are you okay, Sir?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You’re vibrating.”

  “I might be a little bit shaken, darlin’. That’s a huge wad of cash to blow on a fucking rock, but I’m not gonna hulk out or anything.”

  “No, I mean your phone is vibrating.”

  “Oh.” I glance down at my jeans pocket and discover she’s right. And not only that, in my freak-out, I failed to notice that my phone was shaking the man meat. I’m sporting a fucking semi. What the actual fuck? I’ve said it before, and it’s as true now as it’s ever been: somewhere in all that muscle, engorged tissue, and nerve endings, my cock has a tiny brain, and that tiny brain is scheming and plotting against me right now. Again. Fucker. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d strangle him with my bare hands. Maybe I’ll have Ana do it when I get home. God damn it, not helping.

  I hold up my finger to indicate that I need a minute, and step away from the salesgirl before taking my phone from my pocket, readjusting things while I’m down there.

  I smile at Ana’s face as it flashes up on the screen before I bring it to my ear. “Hey baby.”

  “Hey, where are you?”

&nb
sp; Shit. I was so fucking nervous about this whole thing that I’d forgotten to tell her I was leaving work early. I’d only been at the shop for twenty minutes before I told Bob I felt like I was coming down with something. I couldn’t exactly tell him I was driving to an antique jewellery store up the coast to buy his daughter a ring. He might have something to say about that, and I wasn’t sure I’d be happy to hear that something. “Um, I went out for a ride.”

  “While you’re sick?”

  “Yeah, you know how the bike clears my head.”

  “Well, where are you? I got Holly and Kristine to hold down the diner, so I’ll come meet you and we’ll spend the day together.”

  “Er … nah, it’s okay, babe. I’m almost done here and I’ll head on home.”

  “Sir, did you want me to wrap that for you?” the sale assistant asks, and if I wasn’t trying to redeem all the bad decisions of my past I might have considered strangling her. I know it’s not her fault, but strange female voices heard over phone lines lead to what’s no doubt about to come next.

  “Who was that?”

  “No one. Just some chick walking by talking to her boyfriend.”

  The wide-eyed girl holds up her hands in apology and walks back to the counter. I turn my attention back to the phone. Ana says, “She calls her boyfriend Sir, huh?”

  Fuck me. “I don’t know, baby girl, I gotta go. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she says, and hangs up before I can come up with more lousy excuses.

  The rest of the transaction is kind of a blur. I hand over a huge wad of cash for the bauble. The corners of the cashier’s mouth turn down as she awkwardly tries to shuffle the crumpled up notes into some kind of order. Her gaze rolls over me, taking in my tattoos, my messy hair, and my beaten up leather jacket. I can see her little brain ticking over, wondering where I got the cash, and entertaining the possibility of me robbing a bank for the dough.

  Her assessment of me is making me fucking antsy. She’s wondering who the ring is for—I can see it all over her face. She’s probably imagining this pretty little overpriced jewel adorning the finger of some trampy fucking club whore. I wanna tell her about the angel it’s going to belong to, but her judgment forces our differences into stark relief, and has me second guessing again whether or not this is the best thing for Ana.

  Instead, I take my expensive little package and leave, carefully stowing it in the saddle bag as if it’s as precious as a newborn. Then I slide onto my bike, and rev the throttle as my baby chokes and sputters to life. I should have ordered her some new parts this week. Actually, I should have done it six months ago. But then I wouldn’t be sitting here freaking out over the best way to hide this ring until I’m ready to do the deed.

  I ran into some serious traffic on the way home, and had to take a detour almost an hour out of the way. I pull in the drive just on dusk. I’m a dead man. Ana’s going to be pissed. Especially considering I can’t fully explain my absence. I just have to hope she doesn’t give me the third degree.

  Glancing up at the windows—and hoping like hell she can’t see me out here in the dark—I pull the jeweller’s bag from its hiding place and shove it inside my jacket, zipping it right up to my neck. I probably look like a complete fuck-knuckle, but it’s better than just throwing the ring down on the kitchen counter and saying, “How ‘bout it, babe?”

  No. I gotta wait for the right time to do this. I don’t know when that will be, but the moment has to be special. Which means I have to avoid Ana until I can safely hide the ring. Yeah, ‘cause that’ll be a fucking stroll through the tulips.

  I walk into the lounge room; Ana’s nowhere in sight. Weird, considering she’s usually cooking dinner at this time. Yeah, I realise that just made me sound like a complete and utter arsehole, but I help too. Usually. I chop onions and shit … okay, most of the time she just dances around my clumsy arse until she gets annoyed enough with me dropping shit, and finally tells me to get the hell out. But I help out in other ways. I’m a wiz with a power tool, and if you need the garbage taken out, I have got that shit down. Plus I’m a master at providing an endless supply of stress-relief in the form of multiple orgasms.

  Walking through the dark house, I start to think maybe I just got lucky and she’s in the shower, and I can ditch the package somewhere safe and go join her, but as I get closer to the hallway I realise that’s not the case.

  I push the bedroom door open and find Ana sprawled on the bed in nothing but her sexy, black lace underwear. Damn, I’m a lucky bastard.

  “Where have you been?” I can tell she’s trying hard to control the temper, but it’s barely hidden behind the lusty eyes she gives me.

  “There was an accident, I got sent through a detour. Sorry, baby girl.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, though it doesn’t sound fine.

  Let me clue you in on a little fact. When a woman says things are fine, it means things are really not fine. Not fucking fine. And the more fines you get in a sentence, the worse things are. “You can make it up to me by taking off your clothes and coming over here.”

  I practically choke and hide it with a fake cough. My hands instinctively fly to my chest, covering the bulge inside my jacket pocket. “Um, I better not. I got that bug, remember?”

  “You seem fine.”

  “Yeah, it’s a raspy throat, but it kinda comes and goes. I think I’m just going to go shower.”

  “Well, why don’t I join you?” Ana says.

  “Er, that’s okay, baby. Why don’t you go fix us something to eat and we’ll watch some TV, and snuggle on the couch?”

  It’s only after the words leave my mouth that I realise how stupid that was. But I panicked … I had to say something to get rid of her. This rock feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket, right through to my chest.

  “You want a beer too? What about a foot rub, or a fucking blow job while you watch the footy on the flat screen?” Ana clambers over the bed, shoves her arms through her robe and stands before me with her hands resting on her hips, her gaze an inferno.

  Fuck me. She’s so fucking hot when she gets riled up. My eyes sweep over her, from the swell of her perfect tits to her tanned legs, and back again. My cock twitches, but my eager expression gets me in even more trouble. She stalks from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Babe,” I call after her, but the damage is done, and I have all of about ten seconds before she comes stamping back in, ready for round two.

  I run over to my dresser, pull out the drawer and shove the package right at the very back, underneath the holey underwear and odd socks that I won’t throw away. Tomorrow I’ll worry about finding a safer place for it, but for now I have to get rid of it.

  Twenty minutes later we’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch. She’s chowing down on a B.L.T that puts my vegemite on toast to shame, and we’re watching some American nature documentary on the most deadly animals in Australia. I’m pretty sure if she wasn’t mad as a cut snake we’d both be laughing our arses off at the terrible overacting.

  “Where did you really go today?”

  I sigh. I knew she wouldn’t let this go. “I came home, got bored. Wanted to head back to the shop, but I knew your dad would pitch a bitch fit at me if I made him sick, so I just jumped on the bike and drove up the highway. I was on the Gold Coast before I realised where I was going, and then I stopped at a beach further up. Ana, what’s this about? Why the hell are you so worked up?”

  “Why am I worked up? I took the day off so I could come look after you, only when I get here I discover you’re not sick at all, just gallivanting all over the countryside instead.”

  I raise my brows. “Gallivanting? Really?”

  “And as if that’s not bad enough,” she continues, as if I haven’t spoken, “I wait around all afternoon in my underwear, and the second you stroll through in the door you shut me down.”

  “Baby, I love seeing you in your underwear, you know that. I just didn’t
want you to catch this.”

  “And that’s another thing. You’re horny when you’re sick. Like, grab-me-by-the-hair-and-haul-me-off-to-the-bedroom-cave-man-style horny. Today, you just looked panicked. So what the hell is going on, Cade?”

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I needed half a second to unwind. Trust me, baby, if I ever don’t want to lay you out before me and fuck you ‘til you’re walking with a limp, you’ll know about it.”

  Ana opens her mouth to say something more, but I hold up a finger to stop her, and then I bust out the dimples and pat my lap. She frowns, shakes her head, and then she crawls across the sofa and seats herself in my lap anyway. The line between her brows suggests she’s not completely happy to be there, despite it being her choice.

  I lean forward and kiss her lips, but even though she’s straddling my lap, she’s still mad, and not gonna give it up without making me work for it. Which is one of the things I love about her. Half the time I do shit just to piss her off, because fucking her back to her happy place is just as much of a rush as flying down the highway on my bike.

  I take her wrists in my hands and run my thumbs over each of the delicate swallows decorating them. These tattoos are a brand; they’re my brand, in as much of a way as a wedding ring placed on her dainty little finger would be. I press a kiss to the ink as I look into her eyes. A smile plays at the corner of her mouth; she fights it, and tries to force a frown.

  “Give it up, baby girl,” I say, and she does. This laugh slips free, and it’s fucking pure, unadulterated heaven. My dick’s hard as fucking rock, and hotter than lava. I take hold of her waist and slam her arse down on my crotch, grinding my cock against her. “You feel that?”