Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance (40 page)

 

The masks that we wear come off.

 

Contrary to popular opinion and what people might tell you, we
can
change who we are. We can change, and maybe sometimes, if we’re lucky, we can let someone
else
take the mask off us and show us who we really are.

 

The aftermath of San Francisco wasn’t all fun and games, I’ll say that. The story caught like
wildfire
after that picture went to print, and Hunter’s very public declaration at the press conference only fanned the flames. From there, the story sparked into a million directions, and the rumors ran wild.

 

Some of them, like the one where people
actually
believed
I’d
stabbed Hunter in some sort of lover’s quarrel, were comical. Others, like the one where a special interest group raised millions to investigate my mother on possible impeachment charges, were
not
. People can act like heroes, or people can act like garbage, and unfortunately, this world is full of both types.

 

The thing is though, Hunter’s very public words - albeit crude - hit a nerve. Because really, who
does
give a shit? And as it turns out, aside from the people who were going to hate everything anyways, the answer was “no one”.

 

There was a whirlwind of interviews and appearances, and the PR team even managed to convince me to go back on “Good Morning to the Nation” and sit there smiling while the three hosts
fawned
all over Hunter. There were articles in everything from highbrow political blogs to trashy celebrity magazines analyzing our relationship; articles that analyzed our relationship in terms of democracy and the free world to the latest trends on chunky bracelets a juice cleanses.

 

Yeah, people are weird. 

 

Someone even wanted to opt a movie script about our story, to which Hunter replied at the meeting with “only if he could do his own nude scenes”, while I groaned into my hands. 

 

“Not a chance,” I’d whispered to him in the hallway after they’d hastily wrapped the meeting when Hunter had started unzipping his pants. “That’s a private viewing
only
, thank you very much.”

 

“Heck of a jealous streak you’ve got there, doll.” He’d grinned at me, his hand pinching my butt as we walked out the building.

 

“Oh, you really want to see me when I get jealous?”

 


Absolutely
,” he’d growled in my ear. 

 

But after all the interviews, and the pageantry, and all of that, things calmed down. I went back to law school, and finished, and now I’m back in D.C., working on veterans rights reform. Yeah, I know;
back
in D.C. and
back
in the place I never wanted to be in the first place.  But honestly, I like it here. My family’s here, my work is here…

 

Oh, right, and my husband lives here. I mean, he has to, at least when Congress is in session.

 

Like I said, the masks we wear can come off, and it just may surprise you - or really everyone - whats on underneath. Because underneath the hot-headed bossiness, the scars, the tattoos, and the armor, was a whole new part of Hunter Ryan waiting to come out.

 

Congressman
Ryan I should say, representing the fine people of his home state of South Carolina and on his way to becoming the youngest Speaker of the House in United States history.

 

You see, as it turns out, that mix of cocky swagger, home-grown charm, and maybe just a touch of ego does
wonders
with pig-headed and stubborn members of the House. It turns out a decorated war record, a touch of a dominant streak, and a downright
criminally
charming smile is some sort of magic formula when it comes to making feuding members on both sides of the aisle shake hands and agree on things that actually benefit the country.

 

Dexter
did
end up going back to school, majoring in business and programming at Stanford. He’s already been offered an absolutely
ludicrous
position in Silicon Valley when he graduates.

 

“Hey, the rest of you suckers can save the world and lead the country. Somebody in this family has make money.” 

 

Yeah, he’s pretty fond of that joke. Oh, he stopped smoking; Emma’s work.

 

Emma herself tried to insist on her own firing -
firing
, not even resignation; I’m telling you, she
actually
thinks like this - but my mother wouldn’t have it. She and Dexter are doing the distance thing with her still in D.C., having now moved up to head PA for the Office of the President.

 

I gave her a glowing reference.

 

My mother and Alec went right ahead and got married that summer,
as
planned, on the lawn of the White House, and without a
single
care given to the naysayers. They received a standing ovation at “I do” from
ten
presidents, prime ministers, chancellors, and heads of state that were in attendance, and it was the media event of the summer.

 

Months later, when she
finally
had to go testify at her own utterly absurd “obstruction of national security interests” hearing, she answered exactly three questions before she stood, chastised the committee on the “disgusting” waste of time, efforts, and taxpayer money, and walked out of the room. 

 

She was acquitted on all charges.

 

Well, obviously, since she’s about to be sworn in for a second term.

 

That brings us to now, right back where we started on the freezing cold January afternoon on the steps of the U.S. Capital. Only this time, there’s no past nipping at my heels, no memories of masks and dark rooms and strangers lingering in the back of my mind, and no secrets. 

 

This time, it’s all out in the open, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This time, I’ve got the man I love standing beside me, with our daughter in his arms, for all the world to see.

 

…Well, ok, we’ve got one more secret, but I don’t think anyone but Hunter needs to know I’m not wearing any panties.

Did you enjoy
Secret
? Scroll forward for a two-chapter previews of both
Crude: A Stepbrother Romance
and
Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance
!

 

Crude: A Stepbrother Romance

 

Knox Shepherd is a
total
d*ck. A really,
really
big one.

 

He’s a swaggering, cocky prick who blows through women the same way he roars around town on that motorcycle of his - fast.

 

Sure, I wasn’t supposed to be sneaking out to bars or singing at open mics, but that didn’t give him a right to talk to me like
that
. No one’s ever said those things to me before - filthy, raunchy,
crude
suggestions that made me literally run for the door. Suggestions I wish didn’t make me feel so
funny
inside.

 

But hey, no big deal, right? It’s not like I’d ever have to see that smug, foul-mouthed jerk ever again.

 

If only he weren’t standing with that cocky smirk on my front porch right now, right next to my father’s new fiancé. His mom. 

 

Yeah, that unbearable prick is going to be my new stepbrother. 

 

OK, he’s gorgeous, and every time he looks at me I can practically hear him whisper deliciously dirty things in my ear. And maybe something about his cocky swagger makes me think I should
break
some rules for once.

 

...Maybe something about him makes me not so sure I want to go to college still holding on to my V-card.

 

But I
definitely
don’t want to lose it to my stepbrother.
Ew.

 

So why can’t I stop thinking about it?

 

*****

 

 

Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance

 

There’s a reason I hate Oliver Beckett: he’s a
huge
,
massive pr*ck.

 

London’s hottest new bad boy chef is a panty-dropper. He burns his way through party girls’ bedrooms as fast as he blazes around his military-precision kitchen.

 

He’s a face from my past I never thought I’d see again. The tattooed smooth-talking British exchange student from five years past. The one who brought me in like a moth to flame for one night of firsts... before he left me behind forever.

 

The one who almost had my v-card.

 

Except he’s not in my past anymore. Now I’m stepping off a plane in London to start my new job in his kitchen. London, where we’re moving because my mother is marrying his father.

 

Yeah, not
just
my boss. That smug, arrogant jerk is about to be my
stepbrother
.

 

He might be all grown up now - gorgeous and demanding and wildly successful. But what happens when the man who never hears no comes up against the one woman who won’t take his bullsh*t? The one that won’t submit.

 

He wants me to beg him for it, but I won’t.

 

I mean, I
can’t,
right? That would be so wrong.

 

So
deliciously
wrong.

 

I think I’m in big trouble.

 

 

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