Revealed: A Hype PR and Eye Candy Bookstore Anthology Read online

  Cover Design: Designs by Dana

  Formatting: Just write. Creations

  Editing: Kellie Montgomery

  Proofreading: Emmy Hamilton

  Promotions: The Hype PR and The Eye Candy Bookstore

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Incognito

  Copyright 2016

  NOT MINE TO HAVE

  DIRTY SECRET

  YOURS TO TAKE

  UNDERGROUND ATTRACTION

  JUST ONE NIGHT

  PROMISES, SECRETS AND LIES

  RUN AGROUND

  HAREM NIGHT

  SOUTHERN BELLE

  THE LOUNGE

  Renee Dyer

  Chapter One

  All sisters have a code. You’re born with it imprinted on your brain…NEVER fall in love with your sister’s boyfriend.

  I broke that code.

  In all fairness, I was fourteen. My hormones were out of control and nothing could have prepared me for Cannon Blackburn to explode into my life. Black hair, green eyes, chiseled jaw, and a perfect smile—he was better looking than all the boys at school and made the guys in the teen magazines look like trolls. His voice made me shiver and when he looked at me, I felt funny all over.

  I had no idea what was happening to me.

  Ebony said she was bringing the new boy at school home for a study date, I didn’t think anything of it. She did things like that often. My sister was gorgeous. Hair as black as a stormy night, brown eyes, the tanned face of a goddess, and she was smart. She had it all.

  Then there was me. Gawky. So fair I was almost transparent. Blonde hair. Blue eyes everyone else said were stunning, but I felt were too big for my face. I was always too skinny and I hadn’t really developed yet. The boys at school called me Beestings, laughing at the tiny bumps I had for breasts. I was the ugly duckling next to my beautiful swan sister.

  Within weeks, Ebony and Cannon were a couple. Our parents loved him. How could they not? He treated Ebony like a princess, was a good student, volunteered at the local homeless shelter, and had great manners. In their eyes, that was all they needed to know.

  I didn’t need to know much more myself.

  But, I wanted to.

  I wanted to know everything.

  Why he liked football more than baseball? Why he stuck his tongue out at Ebony when she wasn’t looking? How he knew just the right things to say to make my day better? Like the time Ebony told him about the boys teasing me at school; he pulled me aside and explained that boys my age are immature. My heart was racing as his hand touched my cheek and he told me he thought I was beautiful. Me. Awkward, skinny, no boobs, Starr McNamara. Seventeen year old, mature, gorgeous, Cannon Blackburn thought I was beautiful. Yeah…I fell hard.

  Wouldn’t any fourteen year old?

  After that night, I started drawing hearts with our names in them. I never let Ebony see. Cannon was my secret. My guilty secret. I knew it was wrong to love him, but I couldn’t stop.

  Late spring when I was fifteen, Mom and Dad decided to go on a date night, leaving me with Ebony and Cannon. After pizza and a movie, Ebony announced in her sisterly way that it was my bedtime. It was only ten o’clock. I was so embarrassed that she treated me like a child in front of him. I tried to protest, but when he smiled at me, I got mad and stormed off. It felt too much like he was laughing.

  In my room, I lay on my bed, arms crossed over my chest, sputtering words I wasn’t allowed to say. It felt like hours passed as I cursed Ebony out. I wished I had a TV in my room. Staring at the ceiling was not entertaining me at all.

  “Forget this,” I huffed into the empty air.

  Boredom won out as I stomped toward the bathroom. Strange noises coming from Ebony’s room halted me mid-step. I thought I heard Cannon’s voice, but it couldn’t have been. Ebony wasn’t allowed to have boys in her room. As quietly as possible, I tiptoed toward her door. It was opened enough that I could peek inside. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

  Ebony lay naked in the middle of her bed, her legs spread open, back arched, mouth open, and moaning. My eyes traveled up and down her body and landed on Cannon’s head buried in the place I was embarrassed to talk about. Even with my best friends. Ebony’s fingers were in his hair and she kept telling him not to stop. She looked like she was in pain. I didn’t understand why she wanted him to keep going if it hurt.

  Then she screamed and her face changed. It was like she had just been given front row tickets to Justin Timberlake.

  Cannon’s head popped up and he licked his lips. All the talks I’d had with my friends came rushing back. My cheeks flushed and I felt hot all over. Too hot. My clothes were suddenly confining. As Cannon crawled up my sister’s body and I saw his…oh, something inside me awoke.

  I scrambled away from the door, no longer caring if I was quiet. I couldn’t get to my room—to my bed fast enough. Still flushed and completely unsure what to do, I ripped off my clothes and fumbled my way to an orgasm…imagining Cannon touching me the entire time.

  I never told anyone I saw Ebony and Cannon together. My feelings for Cannon stayed hidden too. These were my secrets.

  Ebony and Cannon were the picture of happiness all through their junior and senior year of high school. Ebony said they’d be together forever. Then they got accepted to colleges on opposite sides of the country. Although they promised they would stick out the distance, after six months, Cannon broke up with her.

  In a letter.

  Ebony was crushed.

  So was I.

  It felt like I got dumped too. For weeks I cried in my room where no one could see. I didn’t hang out with my friends. I didn’t want to eat. I was heartbroken and I had no one to talk to because I’d have to admit my secret first. I couldn’t do that.

  That would mean admitting he was never mine to have.

  Chapter Two

  “Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot.” The chanting continues until I down my tequila. “Take it all, Starr.”

  I don’t know which of my friends says it, but I laugh, the buzz from the alcohol fueling my good mood. Originally, I objected to the trip to Cabo to celebrate graduating college. Four females in Cabo seemed like an opportunity for sex trafficking. Luckily my best friend Lacey wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kellie and Christine were up for it from the word tequila, rolling their eyes at my objections and reminding me I’m a prude.

  “Now we just need to get her laid,” Kellie shouts, her voice echoing over the crowd.

  I shake my head as Christine bellows, “Someone has to clean out those cobwebs.”

  Lacey adds, “It’s dry as the fucking Sahara in there.”

  They sound like fucking hyenas as they cackle and high five each other. They nicknamed me Saint Starr years ago. Their comments don’t bother me anymore. Especially not with tequila swirling my brain around.

  “Not all of us can perfect sluthood like you,” I slur, proud that I thought of a comeback.

  “That’s
cuz it takes more than fucking two men,” Kellie laughs.

  “And a half,” I add, feeling the need to fight for that little victory.

  Kirk may have passed out before we had sex, but I got mine first. So, I got myself off with a vibrator, but Kirk was there for it. I don’t have the sexual conquests to brag about that my friends do. Fuck, I don’t even come close. My experiences have been sloppy, boring, or in Kirk’s case—drunk. The best sex I’ve had has been with my own hand.

  Another round of shots appear on the bar and the ladies start hatching a plan to bring wetness back to the desert between my thighs. My protests go unheard as they search the room for the perfect man to break my dry spell. I don’t bother looking. Every man here would rather be approached by one of them. They’re tall, tanned, dark haired beauties. Just like my sister. I’m only five-foot-five. My fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes have deemed me cute. I don’t take that as a compliment. Not when my friends are constantly called hot, sexy…stunning. I’m not ugly. Don’t think I’m saying that, but I’m more of the girl next door type. My friends are gorgeous in the, I want to tie you up and drip hot wax on you kind of way.

  Just once, I want to be looked at like that.

  “Him!” Lacey squeals.

  Christine grabs my knees and spins me on the stool. “Three o’clock.”

  Broad shoulders and toned arms that have been tanned by the sun stretch his gray t-shirt. His jet black hair is short on the sides and unruly on top, making me itch to run my fingers through it. The tequila has definitely kicked in. My eyes wander to his long legs and firm ass. The front of him better not be a letdown because, hot damn, the back has me foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.

  Spinning around, I raise my hand at the bartender.

  “Aw, shit. The saint is back,” Lacey spits out.

  I’m so fucking tired of being called that. Tonight, I’m proving I’m no saint, prude or any other version of those words these creative bitches can come up with. Slamming my shot back, I signal for another, not giving myself time to enjoy the burn.

  “Uh-oh. Someone’s drowning herself in tequila,” Kellie says.

  Enough of their shit! The bar echoes from my shot glass and I push off from the smooth wood without looking at them. With a grace I don’t typically possess I sway over to Mr. Perfect Ass, not caring that he’s in the middle of a conversation and tap him on the shoulder. I practice the witty line I thought up one last time in my head as he’s turning around, my mouth beginning to open, sound starting to rumble up my throat when…

  Him.

  It can’t be.

  “Cannon?”

  His eyes pin me in place, anger morphing his face. What the fuck does he have to be angry about? He left Ebony. Me. In a goddamn letter. He never thought to check on us. Make sure we were okay. This bastard made us fall in love with him and he just—left, taking our hearts with him. Fuck his anger.

  “H-how could you?” I squeeze the words out between clenched teeth before I bolt away, my emotions too intense to hear his reply.

  My friends give me what the fuck looks as I race back, but I can’t deal with them. My heart was just decimated all over again and he had a front row seat. I always pictured him devastated, missing us, wanting to come back and apologize, but I was wrong. So wrong. He’s been having the time of his life. Partying it up with his friends. Taking vacations. He never gave a shit.

  It’s been six years since that letter arrived. Six years since my sixteen year old heart thought it would never beat again, but I still don’t understand how he could look at me like that.

  I thought I was over this…him.

  I grew. Matured. Even got to a point I understood what Cannon was to me. My first crush. I wasn’t in love with him, not really. What people don’t tell you is crushes can be much worse. You obsess over every detail about him. What he likes. Dislikes. Try to mold yourself to what you think he’ll notice. But when his feelings go unrequited, you’re left hollow…crushed. It’s an accurate title. It just shouldn’t sound so romantic.

  After another shot, my friends refuse to wait any longer for an explanation. Blinking back tears, I stare straight through them as I breathe out, “That’s Cannon.”

  A round of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” and, “No fucking way,” sounds out before they realize I’m not alright. Then the comforting begins, followed by, “Want us to kick his ass?” It’s times like this I really love my girls.

  I finally convince them I’ll be fine and want to have a good time. Christine yells for shots and I shake my head. I’ve never drank this much and worry I’ll pay for it in the morning. Lacey drags me onto the dance floor while the others follow closely behind and I try to forget my past glaring at me from across the room. His eyes are on me as we dance and drinks continue to flow. My head is fuzzy and my buzz is long gone. I’m completely shitfaced. No matter how drunk I get I can’t forget how angry I am. At Cannon. Myself. The entire insane situation.

  How can one man make me want to slap him and kiss him so badly? And what the hell is wrong with me that I still want him?

  It’s wrong!

  This needs to end now. Pushing my way through the crowd, ignoring my friends hollering, I stagger forward. Cannon’s green eyes, eyes I used to dream about, bore into me. His body shifts, like he’s inviting me to come to him. My core clenches and my thighs tremble. I’m going to hell. The bastard knows he got to me, his smirk saying it all. Still, I’m unable to stop my feet from moving, drawn to this man who I shouldn’t be.

  “You must be from heaven. Look how you glow.”

  Is he talking to me?

  My eyes roam the crowd around us and back to his smug, smiling face. Oh, fucking no. I didn’t just mentally tell myself how much of an asshole I am for thinking things I shouldn’t for him to bring out that cheesy ass pick up line.

  Finger to his chest, I poke with all my strength. “How,” Holy fuck, he’s hard under that shirt, “could,” Is he hard everywhere, “you?” Stop staring, Starr. Damn tequila!

  “Like what you see, Angel?” He laughs with his friends as I stand there with my mouth gaped open.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “For starters, you’re not on my lap.”

  “Your lap?” His friends laugh harder, causing me to fight back tears. I don’t recognize this man. The Cannon I remember was kind. The man he’s become is not. I start to turn, afraid of my emotions, but one of them makes a comment about his angel flying away. It’s too much. Spinning, my hand flies forward and words spew before I can think.

  “You broke our hea—”

  Everything goes blurry and I feel weightless as the world floats away around me.

  Chapter Three

  Opening my eyes sucks balls. They’re crusted over from falling asleep with mascara on. Wait, why do I have mascara on? How did I get to bed? When did we go back to the resort? What the hell happened last night?

  “You’re awake.”

  A male voice causes me to jolt to a sitting position. My head and stomach protest at the same time. I slam my eyes shut and clamp my lips tight to fight back the nausea.

  “Drink this.”

  A glass is placed in my hands. It’s cool against my hands. I want to thank the stranger, but I’m afraid talking will bring on vomiting. Instead, I bring the glass to my lips and take a careful swallow.

  “Ugh! What the hell is this shit?” I gasp as my eyes fly open and I’m locked in the gaze of Cannon Blackburn. Slowly, the events of last night come back to me, along with my rage. My hangover suddenly isn’t important. Getting away from him is.

  “What the fuck am I doing here?” I ask, realizing I’m not at my resort.

  “You passed out,” he answers like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

  “And?” I grind my teeth, trying desperately not to smash the glass of green goo over his gorgeous head.

  “I convinced your friends we had unfinished business and I’d look after you. Now
, drink that shit so you’ll feel better.”

  He turns and leaves the room. I want to ask him where the hell he thinks he’s going, but that requires speaking to him and that’s the last thing I want. What I do want is to get my damn clothes on and get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible. Hopefully with no more interaction with him.

  The smell of bacon wafts through the room and my traitorous stomach grumbles. I’m hungry and nauseous at once, an unpleasant feeling. Does he really think I’m going to sit down to breakfast with him? Arrogant ass.

  Moving the sheets back, it’s the first time I realize he undressed me. He fucking undressed me. I stare at my bra and panties, not sure whether to put my smoke filled clothes from the night before on, or storm the kitchen and give him a piece of my mind. I decide on option number one, sure he’d enjoy the show. He’d probably enjoy the sparring too. I just need to get the hell away from him. Not bothering with my hair I know makes me look like a guinea pig on crack, I grab my wedges, and barefoot, walk out of his room. Thank Christ these resorts are all laid out pretty much the same. I make a beeline for the door, for my freedom, and sanity.

  “Where you going, Angel?”

  I close my eyes and count to ten, a useless attempt to calm down.

  “Don’t fucking call me that, Cannon,” I say, unable to turn around and look at him.

  “I’ll make that deal with you if you stop calling me Cannon. I don’t like his particular brand of monster.”

  The coldness in his voice and the words that cause my spine to shiver have me spinning so fast I get dizzy. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Well, Princess,” he spits out with hatred in his tone, “you have been fawning over the wrong goddamn man. If you want my brother, which by the way, what the fuck? I can direct you to his jail cell.”

  Brother. Jail cell. What the fuck is going on here?

  “Ca-ca-cannon doesn’t have a brother,” I say weakly.

  “Ye-ye-yes he does.” I step back as he mimics my stuttering. What a douche. “Surprise! The cat’s out of the bag. Some secrets can’t stay hidden.” He starts walking toward me, his bare chest now intimidating.