Read Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection Online
Authors: Selena Kitt
eXcessica publishing
Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete
Collection
© December 2011 by Selena
Kitt
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First Edition December
2011
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Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete
Collection
By Selena Kitt
Get EIGHT STORES—ALL seven modern retellings
of fairy tale classics in Selena Kitt’s Modern Wicked Fairy Tales:
Complete Collection—Beauty, Briar Rose, Goldilocks, Rapunzel, Red,
Alice and Gretel—for one GREAT low price!
PLUS a BONUS STORY previously unreleased:
Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Wendy
, a modern take on Peter
Pan!
In
Beauty
, former beauty queen Jolee
Mercier finds herself in big trouble, locked in the trunk of her
husband’s BMW on her way to a remote location in the woods of
northern Michigan where she’s going to be killed. Her crime?
Knowing too much. An anonymous letter arrived addressed in her name
with proof that her husband, Carlos, a state logging and mining
mogul, had been the one responsible for her father’s death years
earlier, killed for supporting the unions at a local logging camp.
When a terrible accident ends her husband’s plan to kill her, Jolee
wakes up alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods, rescued by a
masked man they call “the beast,” with a husband who wants her
dead, and miles of state forest between her and civilization.
In
Briar Rose
, although her dreams
are filled with sensual imagery, and she’s often awakened with a
throbbing sense of release, Rose has never had a sexual climax—at
least, not while conscious. When she’s forced to confess her faked
orgasms to her fiancé on the eve of their wedding, she finds
herself alone, abandoned and suicidal—until her aunt gives her a
business card with the name of a special clinic. Rose has undergone
all sorts of physical and mental examinations in the past, but her
aunt assures her that this place is “different.” Desperate for a
solution, Rose decides to give it one last try, and finds that Dr.
Matt, as he insists she call him, is indeed very different from any
other person she’s ever met, and he’s determined to get to the
bottom of her problem—one way or another.
In
Goldilocks
, Goldie Lax is a
safecracking prodigy who learned her craft from her father and her
grandfather before him. When she pairs up with Richard Campbell,
who can hack any system, together they make the perfect team,
mixing both business and pleasure. When Goldie’s grandfather, who
survived the holocaust only to end up a nursing home in his
eighties, tells her about a horrific crime that robbed a good
friend of his family’s inheritance, Goldie enlists Campbell’s help
to recover the diamonds. The three Behr brothers have stolen
something too precious for words and Goldie, safecracker
extraordinaire, and Campbell, their head of security, have hatched
a foolproof scheme to get it back, but the long, involved plan may
just complicate their relationship beyond repair.
In
Rapunzel
, Rachel runs Rapunzel’s,
a high-end salon on the lower level of a downtown Chicago high rise
and lives happily in self-imposed exile in an apartment at the top
of the tower—that is until Jake Malden walks in with his teen
daughter, Emma, and presents Rachel with a dilemma. Young Emma is
determined to defy her mother’s wishes and get her long, beautiful,
untouched hair cut off so she can donate it to charity to honor a
friend with cancer. Rachel’s decision to cut the girl’s hair starts
a snowball of drama, turmoil and hidden secrets rolling downhill on
a course with destiny that no one is able to stop, one that
ultimately threatens not only Rachel’s livelihood, but her slowly
melting heart as well.
In
Red
, recently orphaned Mae finds
herself taking care of her ill grandmother and trying to negotiate
the big, wide world of New York. Aside from Griff, a drifter she’s
befriended on the long walk to her grandmother’s, she is alone, a
frightened country mouse in the big city. Mae can’t believe her
good fortune when she meets Lionel Tryst, a charming and
charismatic real estate agent, who arranges the miraculous sale of
her grandmother’s expensive apartment in the horrible buyer’s
market of the Great Depression so they can both move out of the
city. But is Mae’s luck too good to be true—or is there a big bad
wolf lurking in the shadows?
In
Alice
, Alice is madly in love with
a man who taps into her naturally submissive nature and introduces
her to the pleasurably painful delights of the BDSM world. When her
Wade Knight sends a car to take her to a strange and wonderful new
place, Alice finds herself in a very sticky situation where
everything is upside down and nothing is as it seems.
In
Gretel
, Gretel has never
understood her father’s choice of a second wife, and she and her
brother Hans have high hopes of getting out from under the
suspicious, spiteful eye of their penny-pinching stepmother once
Hans graduates from college with his degree in chemistry. But on
Gretel’s eighteenth birthday, when their stepmother insists they go
on a month-long cruise around the coast of Australia with a rich
candy-heiress grandmother neither of them has ever met, the
siblings’ plan, in fact their whole world, is turned upside down.
Hans is drawn into the lavish, opulent lifestyle on the yacht,
easily seduced by their grandmother’s riches and her plans for his
future. Wary Gretel, on the other hand, finds herself seduced
instead by Andrew, their grandmother’s bodyguard and assistant. And
when their grandmother reveals the real reason for taking the two
siblings on the voyage, it may be too late for either of them to
escape her greedy grasp.
In
Wendy
, Peter finds his Wendy while
looking for a rare book on “shadow” in the library. After hearing
Wendy’s tale of woe, he invites her and her two little brothers,
Michael and John, to come live at his house in south Florida—a
place he calls Neverland. But although a large cross-dressing
blonde named Tink, who lives with Peter and his band,
The Lost
Boys
, isn’t too happy about Wendy’s arrival, it’s Peter’s
nemesis, James Hook, who proves to be the new couple’s greatest
challenge.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BEAUTY
Jolee could never stay
out of trouble for long and being locked in the trunk of Carlos’s
black BMW was no exception to that particular rule of her life.
She’d given up trying to kick the side of the car to make
noise—luxury car makers practically sound-proofed their trunks. Who
knew? She wondered if engineers considered scenarios like this
one—after all, any rich husband might have to enlist his hit men
tie up and toss his troublesome wife into the trunk for easy
disposal, right?
Besides, her feet were secured with zip
ties, as were her hands, which stretched painfully behind her back.
They didn’t use duct tape—too easy to wiggle out of—except for the
pieces over her mouth. And even those weren’t just slapped
on—they’d used the roll to wrap the silver stuff around and around
her mouth and jaw in layers. Carlos’s guys knew exactly what they
were doing. Of course they did. It was their job.
There was just no way out of this bit of
trouble. That realization finally hit her in the darkness, the
car’s wheels crunching gravel a long time now, off the highway, she
surmised, the suspension bouncing her violently up and down. This
was going to be the last batch of trouble she ever got herself into
in the whole expanse of a life that seemed suddenly very short.
She’d been so focused on escaping or finding
a way out since Carlos’s goons had grabbed her out back—zip-tied
and duct taped before she could even raise the snow shovel she’d
been using—that this final realization hit with such terrifying
force Jolee actually wet herself, urine staining the crotch of her
jeans with spreading navy blue darkness.
She was going to die.
“No,” she whispered, feeling herself giving
in at the same time as she denied the notion. “Please, no.”
She had no one left to mourn her. Her mother
had been gone since she was a baby, her father dead for years,
killed in a logging accident. And her husband—Carlos was the reason
she was facing this end, a betrayal she still couldn’t wrap her
head around. But for the first time in her life she was glad for
the miscarriages, that she had no baby or child to leave behind.
Her only real regret was that she had never really loved a man who
truly loved her back.
Jolee wailed, a muffled cry that wouldn’t
have been heard over the pounding bass of Ted Nugent through the
car’s speakers even if they’d been stopped in traffic somewhere,
but they were far from civilization. She knew where they were. Not
exactly, but they’d driven a long way on this back, bumpy, winding
road and there was no doubt in her mind they were in the middle of
nowhere, deep into the wild, far from the logging camps, but still
on the thousands of acres of land Carlos’s father had left him.
That was where Carlos buried the bodies.
Jolee thought of her husband, the way he
sucked on a Wintergreen Lifesaver and tied his tie in their dresser
mirror every morning as if he was going off like any other man to a
regular job living a regular life, the way he ruffled her hair and
called her “chickie” and kissed her cheek before he left. How could
that man be the same man who had ordered her kidnapped and
killed?
As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew
it was the truth. Her husband killed people. No, he had people
killed. If they got in his way, if they threatened him or his
little empire, Carlos had the money, the power and the influence to
simply make them disappear. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, for
years she had suppressed her intuition. But when proof had arrived
in her mailbox, when she had confronted Carlos with the information
and he had petted and placated and pacified her, she had still
denied it, hadn’t she? She’d believed his lies. Because she wanted
to? Because she had to? What woman wanted to believe her husband
would have her father killed?
It had been over a week since the blow-up,
since the unstamped white envelope with proof of Carlos’s crime had
shown up in their mailbox with just her name—Jolee Mercier—scrawled
onto the front. She’d thought things had gone back to normal, that
Carlos had forgotten, that they could live out their lives as they
always had, separately together. How could she have let herself
sink so low? How could she have believed for one moment that the
man she married wasn’t the monster he’d been revealed to be?
But she had found that living with
something, day in and day out, numbed you to its power. Now she was
going to pay for that denial, with her life.
“No!” She didn’t know where she found the
strength. Maybe it was the thought of Carlos telling his next
conquest that, sadly, his last wife had run off on him. Maybe it
was the injustice of being interred beside her father somewhere in
the middle of nowhere, a mass grave for Carlos’s enemies—men who
had defended the union, women who had turned him down, people who
had made Carlos’s life uncomfortable. How many bodies were buried
out there, she wondered? If he would order his own wife killed—who
hadn’t
he gotten rid of?