Sweet Obsession (Men of Whiskey Row Book 1)

SWEET OBSESSION

BY

D. A. YOUNG

Copyright © November 2015 by D. A. Young

Cover Art by Karen Kunz/[email protected] © September 2014 created for D. A. Young

Editing by Little Pear Editing Services/[email protected] Copyright © March 2016

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book only. EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this e-book is a crime punishable by law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, 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 reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (
http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/
).

This book is a work of fiction and intended for mature audiences aged 18+ only. All names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and have been used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

SWEET OBSESSION PLAYLIST

EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED – TAYLOR SWIFT FT. ED SHEERAN

LET HER GO – PASSENGER

EASY TO LUV U –STACIE ORRICO

FOOL OF ME – MESHELL NDGEOCELLO

COUNTDOWN – BEYONCE

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO – ELLIE GOULDING

RIPTIDE – VANCE JOY

CHANDELIER - SIA

SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY – OTIS REDDING

FIRE – THE POINTER SISTERS

COME WITH ME NOW – THE KONGOS

I BELIEVE IN YOU & ME – WHITNEY HOUSTON

ALL SUMMER LONG – KID ROCK

LOSE YOURSELF -- EMINEM

STAY WITH ME – SAM SMITH

B* DON’T KILL MY VIBE – KENDRICK LAMAR

INVINCIBLE – KELLY CLARKSON

CRASH MY PARTY – LUKE BRYAN

HELLO – BEYONCE

Author’s Notes

“Writing to me is simply thinking through my fingers.” – Isaac Assimov

I never knew what I wanted to be growing up and at times felt lost and frustrated. I just knew I had a very big imagination but no outlet for it. That if I saw or thought of something, I could spin a story out of it, and enjoy the tale no matter how odd it might seem to others. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I sat down and finally started writing. Out came all the stories and characters that had been impatiently partying in my head, waiting for me to realize that writing was my true calling.

This book is dedicated to anyone who ever did or does struggle to discover their passion and to everyone who believed in me, especially the friends and family members who let me know that reading was not their thing, but they enjoyed what I did share with them.

To Karen Kunz and Patrice Harrison words can’t express how much I appreciate you ladies and all that you do. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

I hope you enjoy my first book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions. Please email me at
[email protected]

Jack and Noelle’s story is the first of the Whiskey Row Series. I hope you enjoy the characters you meet along the way, as they all have a story to tell.

Sincerely,

D. A. Young

Interested in what I’m doing next? Follow me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/D-A-Young-1695356880704195/

Prologue

1992

Whiskey Row, Tennessee

The turnout for the funeral service atop a high hill just outside of town was sparse. There was Reverend Melton, Jeb the undertaker, a handful of drunken men, and three boys. The boys listened stoically as the preacher struggled to find kind things to say about the deceased. Eventually he stopped trying when he noticed the second oldest boy smirking at him. He glared at the lad and quickly finished his speech before letting the other men speak. They bemoaned the death of their drinking partner as they went on about what a great poker player he’d been. As they walked away, they patted the shoulder of each boy and mumbled their condolences. Still, the young trio said nothing.

Standing next to the grave, the boys watched dirt slowly
fill the hole and cover the casket. It had been a depressing affair, nothing like the glorious service held a week earlier in the cemetery where the entire town came to pay their respects as the angelic voices of the church choir filled the sky. On that day, the townspeople wailed and cried as they felt the tragic loss of one of their own. The many dishes of food brought to the Sullivan doorstep would feed the boys for at least two months. Yes, this turnout was different. But it was one the boys wouldn’t have missed for the world.

Reverend Melton stopped next to the group. He looked at each of them, studying their stone-faced expressions. Like their parents, they were incredibly good looking. Jackson was the eldest and he resembled his dear mother down to his calm personality. Standing tall at five feet-ten inches, he had short black hair and hazel eyes. He already looked wise beyond his thirteen years as he took on the role of the family patriarch.

Eleven-year-old Darby was the second eldest, and unfortunately, resembled his bastard of a father. A strapping lad, he had thick reddish-brown hair that fell to his shoulders in sheets, and his eyes were a dark, stormy green. Many a lecture had been given to him because of the mischief he was always up to; but he shrugged it all off with the Sullivan ‘devil-may-care’ attitude and a
shit-eating grin.

And there was Casey, the baby of the family, who was eight years old. His dark blonde hair came from his paternal great-grandfather and was cut in a bowl that framed his head. Being small in stature, due to a fever at birth, had earned him the unpleasant title of ‘Little Shit’ from their father. His bright hazel eyes were filled with tears as he too stared at the grave.

Clearing his throat, the reverend began somberly, “Boys, I’m sorry for your loss. It’s bad enough to lose your mother, but to lose your father as well-”

“We didn’t lose our mother; she was taken from us, Reverend,” Darby vehemently interjected with a sneer as he continued to stare into the grave. Casey clutched his thigh and started to sob quietly. Reverend Melton shot Darby a censoring look as he bent down to console Casey; but he twisted away from them and launched himself at his eldest brother. Jack picked him up in his arms and rubbed his back as sobs shook his tiny body. The older man watched helplessly as the inconsolable little boy cried harder. Addressing Reverend Melton, Jack nodded his head and spoke for the first time that morning. “Thank you for your time today, sir. We really appreciate you coming out in this weather to assist us with this matter. Drive safely back to town, okay?”

Realizing he’d been dismissed and by a thirteen-year-old lad no less, Reverend Melton simply nodded his head and made his way down the hill, saying prayers for them the whole way. The grave was now a quarter of the way filled. Jeb was working fast because the University of Tennessee was playing in less than an hour against Vanderbilt. Jack and Darby looked at each other silently communicating before Jack spoke.

“Hey Jeb, why don’t you go ahead and get out of here? Darby and I can finish up,” he suggested firmly.

“Awww hell. I can’t leave you two to bury your pappy. It ain’t the Christian thing to do,” Jeb said slowly as he snuck a glance at his watch.

Darby snorted, “Old man, you’re as much a Christian as the Devil is an angel.”

Jack hid a smile as Jeb glared at his younger brother. Darby didn’t flinch, meeting the older man’s glare head on.

“One of these days, Darby Sullivan. One of these days…” Jeb threatened taking a step towards the little brat who balled his fists up and puffed his chest out.

Jack stepped between them and gave Jeb a hard look. “But not today, Jeb. Thank you for your time; we can take it from here.” Jeb shrugged. What did he care?

“Suit yourself, young ‘un.” Jeb dropped the shovel and tipped his hat. “My condolences to your family,” he said before running down the hill to his truck. He sure hoped the boys had saved him a seat at the bar.

It was a cool afternoon, but the sky was rolling with dark, gray clouds that promised a whopping thunderstorm with rain showers that would last a couple of days. The boys had watched the Weather Channel’s ten day forecast last week after burying their mother and specifically picked this day. Soon it would be time, but for now, they settled down to wait.

Jack walked over to the backpack he had packed early this morning and took out some sandwiches and sodas. Darby pulled a blanket out, and they all sat down to eat in silence, lost in their thoughts. Casey soon drifted off to sleep in Darby’s lap, his sandwich half eaten. It was only then that the two brothers spoke.

“So what’s the plan, Jack?” Darby asked around a mouthful of bologna and wheat. His older brother was the only person in the world he would listen to and follow blindly. His back bore the marks of his father’s belt buckle for his outright defiance, and his ears had often been blistered by his mama’s lectures, but all Jack had to do was look at him, and he would cut all bullshit aside.

Jack looked up at the rolling sky which was getting darker by the minute. Soon, he thought. “I spoke to Aunt Kelly in Memphis. She’s willing to take us in.”

Jack didn’t mention that in exchange for room and board, he would give her some of the money his mother had secretly saved for them. Aside from his brothers, Jack wanted nothing more to do with anyone named Sullivan, especially live with a complete stranger; but he needed to make sure they didn’t get separated. “The goal is for us to stay together, no matter what. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Thunder rumbled loudly above them as the clouds turned darker with each passing minute. “Come on, Darby. It’s time.”

Jack and Darby stood up, leaving Casey to sleep restlessly on the blanket. Darby reached into the backpack and pulled out a can of lighter fluid before following Jack to the half-buried grave. When they suggested the deceased be buried out of town, no one had put up much protest; for he was a truly evil man, and the town was relieved to be rid of him. The only protest came from lazy, old Jeb when they requested that a very deep grave be dug.