Vanessa Booke - Bound to You

Mom, thank you for being my number one cheerleader and for being the source of why I love Romantic Fiction so much. Thank you for everything youve done and will do for me. I can never say that enough. Melinda and NJ, thank you for encouraging me to keep going and for your feedback on all of my writing. Im proud to call you my friends. I wish you both the best in your careers. To my editor, Carolyn, thank you for working with me on such short notice. I really appreciate the work you did for this book. Im glad I found a gem like you. To my readers, thank you for buying this book and for taking a chance on me. Ive often found that people who have potential sometimes need a chance or opportunity to let themselves shine. So thank you for giving me this chance. Dear husband, thank you for putting up with me. Seriously, thank you. I know I can be moody when Im writing or when Im trying to explain my ideas. Thank you for always being encouraging, funny, uplifting, and the only thing that keeps me anchored in this crazy and sometimes fucked up world. Youre the moon of my life. My sun and stars. My Mr. Darcy. Im so lucky to have found you. Remember, when you read this I get extra brownie points that I can cash in for you doing the dishes. ;)

Hes cheating on me with her? My hand burns as I slug the tall blonde in front of me right across her collagen-injected face. A smile of satisfaction spreads across mine as blood gushes from her nose like a busted faucet. She leaps back, falling, as she clutches for the bed behind her. Her almost too symmetrical tits bounce as she lands with a loud thud on her ass. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as she leans against the bed, clutching her nose. Im shaking, but Im ready for more. A furnace of rage burns through me as she sneers at me and mutters the word bitch under her breath. Im usually not in the habit of punching people I dont know, but Im ready to do it again.

Rebecca, stop! Miles scrambles toward me as he pulls his pants up like the floor is on fire. His honey colored eyes stare back at me in disbelief as he assesses the carnage thats ensued. It was only an hour ago that I was on my way to his apartment to celebrate our anniversary together. The last thing I expected was to find him here with another woman.

Who is she? I snap. I cant stand to look at him, and at the same time I cant look away. His usually silky brown hair is disheveled into a messy flop of fuck-me hair. The overpowering amount of evidence sends a wave of nausea right through me. Youre disgusting.

Shes my co-worker on the show. The realization of who she is hits me as I look down at her petite frame leaning against the bed. She plays his love interest on the show Future Outlaw. Its the TV series Miles has been working on. Hes described it as a fictional reimagining of Jesse James with time traveling cowboys fighting off the Italian Mafia. Ive only been able to watch a couple of episodes because Ive been so busy filling out grad school applications, but Im shocked I didnt immediately recognize her. Apparently, the lines of reality and make believe have been blurred, because a minute ago I walked in on the two of them fucking like cats in heat.

Becca, are you okay? His voice is full of concern but its meaningless.

Miles steps closer, snapping me back to reality. I dont want him anywhere near me. The truth of his betrayal confounds me. It didnt take me long to realize something was terribly and utterly wrong from the moment I stepped into the apartment. There were rose petals meshed against the carpet leading to the bedroom, a bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table, and a note sitting on the stand in the hallway. I was surprised by Miles overly romantic gesture. Its not his style. Hes simplistic and so unromantic. Hes never bought me flowers and Ive always been stupid enough to tell him that I dont care for them, when the truth is I love them. I was enjoying my ignorant bliss up until the point where I heard a sensual giggle echo behind the double doors of Miles bedroom.

Rebecca, it just happened, Miles starts to say. Just happened?

So your dick just happened to fall into her? I ask.

Hes been fucking me for a while, Scarlett says, standing back up. He said he was tired of fucking you. Too much baggage. She smirks as she gives me a once over. Youre a lot bigger than I imagined. He said you were curvy, she says with a smile. But I think he was just trying to be nice

Its been three weeks, 21 days and 504 hours since I last saw and spoke with my cheating ex-fianc, Miles. Since the brutal encounter with Scarlett and him, Ive been seeing two new men in my life. The first is Ben and the second is Jerry. Theyre sweet, dependable, and they know just the right spots to hit. The sad part is, theyre not real. Nope, Ive been having a three-week affair with several different pints of ice cream. I know, the scandal! Everything from Americone Dream to Milk and Cookies. The only thing to break me out of this endless loop of misery is an e-mail that I received yesterday.

To: Rebecca Gellar

From: HR@SHPublishing.com

Subject: Interview Invitation

Ms. Gellar,

It is with great pleasure that we invite you to come in for an interview for a position at StoneHaven Publishing Co

I re-read the email over and over, letting reality set in a little more each time. The obsessive part of me has compulsively checked my inbox every five minutes, deathly afraid that the email will magically disappear. Ive even forwarded it to two different emails, just to make sure Im not dreaming it up. Everything is going exactly how I hoped for. Im moving to New York and now I have an interview for my dream job. This is really happening. The past four years of working my ass off has finally paid off.

StoneHaven Publishing Co. is one of New York's oldest and most respected independent publishers. Theyre well known for their debut authors and I havent seen one that hasnt become a bestseller on any of the major lists - NY Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly. The thought of potentially working with one of them sends a warm rush of excitement through me. I have to admit I love the written word. Theres just something about reading a story that makes me happier than anything else in the world. Even chocolate. And for me that says a lot, because I love my chocolate. My hips even agree.

The timing of this email literally couldnt be any more perfect. In less than two days, Ill be on my way to the Big Apple. Carol Livingston, my best friend and college roommate, whom I havent seen in over two years, will be picking me up at the airport, and then my new life begins.

You know, you dont really have to move all the way to New York City, Mom says, slowly unzipping my hideous pink suitcase covered in glittered Hello Kitty stickers. As much as I want to, I cant get rid of the bag my grandmother gave it to me. She has a thing for cats and the color pink, and the fusion of them together equaled my college graduation gift.

My mother isnt the sort of woman to be in her pajamas all day. Shes always quick to get dolled up, even if its just her and me in the house, so Im pretty sure this current choice of outfit is an open protest to me going to New York. Its 1 oclock in the afternoon and shes still wearing her overnight pajamas, fluffy pink slippers, and her baby blue curlers. Its the 21st century, but I still cant convince her to use an actual curling iron for her hair.

Ive been trying to avoid the goodbye conversation for the past week. I sort of sprang moving across the country on mom and shes still upset with me. Despite the fact that Im 24, she still acts like an overprotective mother bear. Im pretty sure the only reason she hasnt locked me in my room is because my father convinced her to be civil with me while hes away. Hes a truck driver, and most weeks hes driving up to Northern California, delivering barrels of wine to local restaurants.