LOVE SERIES Not For Sale
Highest Bidder
Undercover Love (v1-2)
Before There Was Beer Pong (Free!)
Chapter 1
Finally , Chase thought as the Greyhound bus pulled into the small service station. He exited the bus and stretched his cramped body once his feet hit the pavement before taking his Army green duffle bag from the driver.
"Thanks for your service, son," the driver said before he stepped back onto the bus.
Chase just nodded his head and stretched once more, turning his head this way and that until he heard a satisfying crack. He picked up his bag that boldly stated in stenciled letters: U.S.M.C. and MURPHY.
Eight years since he had been home. Home being this small podunk town in North Carolina. Nothing had changed. The only traffic light in town still blinked after midnight in front of the Quik Mart and across the street, Johnson's Feed & Hardware was locked up tight. Still, in the silence of the night, he could hear the soft coos of the chickens out back of the store. He settled his bag on his back, as he had done hundreds of times before, and began walking down the dark country road.
Childhood memories filled his mind as he made his way home. How many times had he ridden his bike down this very same road to Johnson's?
Hundreds, he was sure. His Corps brothers were right to have nicknamed him 'Boonie.' Chase chuckled to himself. His little one horse town was definitely in the boondocks.
The house he had inherited when he turned eighteen looked just like it had when he'd left it eight years ago. The windows were dark on the one story ranch but Chase knew that old man Hawkins had taken good care of the place for him.
Chase walked up the stone path to the front door and stopped about two feet away. He dropped his duffle before bending over and lifting one of the paving stones to revel a small Skoal can. From the can he removed the house key before putting the stone back into place. Hefting his bag once more, he let himself into his house.
Nothing had changed on the inside either. His two cowboy hats sill hung on their hooks by the door right where he left them and if anything, the house looked cleaner than he remembered.
Old Man Hawkins probably hired someone to clean when he knew I was coming home , Chase thought and made a mental note to pay the man back. Even though the Corps taught him what the word 'clean' really meant, Chase had been silently dreading spending his first few days home doing 'spring cleaning.'
There would be time enough to see what still needed doing in the morning. Right now, all Chase wanted to do was hit the rack. He dropped his duffle unceremoniously by the door and took his tired ass to bed.
Another Saturday night at the Watering Trough , Brad thought without excitement. The same people in the same bar, week after week. Too bad he was stuck in this town. At least until his mother passed away.
As he opened the door to the Trough, Brad instantly felt guilty for the thought and knew he'd just lost some heaven credits.
The smell of sawdust, smoke, and beer greeted him, as it always did, when he entered. The bar was dark, the only real light coming from the lights over the pool table and the neon beer signs behind the bar. Brad took a moment to let his eyes adjust as he scanned the bar. The Trough did a healthy business since it was the only bar within a twenty five mile radius and sat on a state road. Brad recognized several of the regulars and gave them a nod as he made his way to the bar.
"Usual?" Jackie, the bar owner, asked him with a smile as she held up a bottle of Bud Light.
"Of course, beautiful." Brad returned her smile.
Jackie placed his bottle on the battered old bar and laughed as she turned to charge his tab. Jackie had owned the Trough for as long as he could remember. In fact, it was his grandfather who had first brought him to the bar when he was a child. Playing shuffle board was the coolest thing to a nine year old while Papaw drank his beer. Brad smiled at the memory and turned
Highest Bidder
Undercover Love (v1-2)
Before There Was Beer Pong (Free!)
Chapter 1
Finally , Chase thought as the Greyhound bus pulled into the small service station. He exited the bus and stretched his cramped body once his feet hit the pavement before taking his Army green duffle bag from the driver.
"Thanks for your service, son," the driver said before he stepped back onto the bus.
Chase just nodded his head and stretched once more, turning his head this way and that until he heard a satisfying crack. He picked up his bag that boldly stated in stenciled letters: U.S.M.C. and MURPHY.
Eight years since he had been home. Home being this small podunk town in North Carolina. Nothing had changed. The only traffic light in town still blinked after midnight in front of the Quik Mart and across the street, Johnson's Feed & Hardware was locked up tight. Still, in the silence of the night, he could hear the soft coos of the chickens out back of the store. He settled his bag on his back, as he had done hundreds of times before, and began walking down the dark country road.
Childhood memories filled his mind as he made his way home. How many times had he ridden his bike down this very same road to Johnson's?
Hundreds, he was sure. His Corps brothers were right to have nicknamed him 'Boonie.' Chase chuckled to himself. His little one horse town was definitely in the boondocks.
The house he had inherited when he turned eighteen looked just like it had when he'd left it eight years ago. The windows were dark on the one story ranch but Chase knew that old man Hawkins had taken good care of the place for him.
Chase walked up the stone path to the front door and stopped about two feet away. He dropped his duffle before bending over and lifting one of the paving stones to revel a small Skoal can. From the can he removed the house key before putting the stone back into place. Hefting his bag once more, he let himself into his house.
Nothing had changed on the inside either. His two cowboy hats sill hung on their hooks by the door right where he left them and if anything, the house looked cleaner than he remembered.
Old Man Hawkins probably hired someone to clean when he knew I was coming home , Chase thought and made a mental note to pay the man back. Even though the Corps taught him what the word 'clean' really meant, Chase had been silently dreading spending his first few days home doing 'spring cleaning.'
There would be time enough to see what still needed doing in the morning. Right now, all Chase wanted to do was hit the rack. He dropped his duffle unceremoniously by the door and took his tired ass to bed.
Another Saturday night at the Watering Trough , Brad thought without excitement. The same people in the same bar, week after week. Too bad he was stuck in this town. At least until his mother passed away.
As he opened the door to the Trough, Brad instantly felt guilty for the thought and knew he'd just lost some heaven credits.
The smell of sawdust, smoke, and beer greeted him, as it always did, when he entered. The bar was dark, the only real light coming from the lights over the pool table and the neon beer signs behind the bar. Brad took a moment to let his eyes adjust as he scanned the bar. The Trough did a healthy business since it was the only bar within a twenty five mile radius and sat on a state road. Brad recognized several of the regulars and gave them a nod as he made his way to the bar.
"Usual?" Jackie, the bar owner, asked him with a smile as she held up a bottle of Bud Light.
"Of course, beautiful." Brad returned her smile.
Jackie placed his bottle on the battered old bar and laughed as she turned to charge his tab. Jackie had owned the Trough for as long as he could remember. In fact, it was his grandfather who had first brought him to the bar when he was a child. Playing shuffle board was the coolest thing to a nine year old while Papaw drank his beer. Brad smiled at the memory and turned
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