WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition

By D. D. Scott, Talli Roland
Chicki Brown, Lisa Lim
MG Ainsworth, Buck Buchanan
Sheila Seabrook, Diane Vallere
Christy Hayes

Compiled and Edited By: Matthew Rush, The
Edit Dude

WELCOME TO THE WG2E ALL-FOR-INDIES
ANTHOLOGIES

STUCK WITH A SCHMUCK
, By D.D. Scott ♥
YOU DON'T HAVE TO SAY YOU LOVE
ME
, By Talli Roland ♥
YOU MAKE ME FEEL BRAND
NEW
, By Chicki Brown ♥
LOVE IN THE STACKS
, By
Lisa Lim ♥
CHERUB'S CHOICE
, By MG
Ainsworth ♥
HEART BREAKER
, By Buck Buchanan ♥
THE VALENTINE GRINCH
, By Sheila
Seabrook ♥
INDEPENDENCE DAY
, By Diane Vallere
♥
GOOD
LUCK, BAD TIMING, AND WHEN HARRY MET SALLY
, By Christy
Hayes

Copyright © 2012 by D.D. Scott, Talli Roland,
Chicki Brown, Lisa Lim, MG Ainsworth, Buck Buchanan, Sheila
Seabrook, Diane Vallere, and Christy Hayes

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are either products of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the
authors or publisher.

Smashwords Edition: February 2012

When just one year ago, I brainstormed The
WG2E – The Writer’s Guide to Epublishing – your destination site
for all-things-Epublishing, I never in my wildest, most spectacular
dreams imagined I’d end up creating a site which now gets over one
million hits per month and is the first visit of the day for over
3500 Indie Epublished Writers and Authors!

At The WG2E, it’s all about finding ways to
Pay It Forward, both to our fellow writers and to all our superfab
readers too.

We simply luuuvvv treating readers to great
books for great prices and helping our fellow authors find new
readers around the globe.

With this Second Edition of our
WG2E
All-For-Indies Anthologies,
we’re treating you to a terrific,
one-of-a-kind approach to the anthology concept.

You’ll get a variety of genres all packaged
together as a wonderful way to discover authors new to you and a
variety of story lengths – from short-shorts, to short and novella
length too!

In addition, each WG2E Anthology is based on
a different theme, and we’re over the moon to offer you unique
perspectives on these superfab fun themes.

Here’s what we mean by that…

In our
WG2E Winter Viva La Valentine
Anthology
, we’re treating you to stories that yes, have a
Valentine’s Day element, but you’ll never think of Valentine’s Day
in quite the same way.

For example:

• “What happens if you’re stuck with a schmuck
  on Cupid’s Big Day?” for D. D. Scott’s STUCK WITH A SCHMUCK
  

• “Love can be a real show
  or
  tell” for
  Talli Roland’s YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY YOU LOVE ME
  

• “What’s better than a little chocolate on
  Valentine’s Day?” for Chicki Brown’s YOU MAKE FEEL BRAND NEW
  

• “Books aren’t the only things you can check
  out at the library” for Lisa Lim’s LOVE IN THE STACKS
  

• “Who knew Cupid was such a Ladies’ Man and
  that Guardian Angels have a super-steamy side?” for MG Ainsworth’s
  CHERUB’S CHOICE
  

• “Valentines, Vampires and Key Lime Pie” for
  Buck Buchanan’s HEART BREAKER
  

• “What happens when The Grinch plays Cupid?”
  for Sheila Seabrook’s THE VALENTINE GRINCH
  

• “What if Cupid couldn’t find you because you
  were too busy being busy?” for Diane Vallere’s INDEPENDENCE DAY
  

• “One cab ride can change your heart forever”
  for Christy Hayes’ GOOD LUCK, BAD TIMING, AND WHEN HARRY MET
  SALLY
  

Happy Reading and Welcome to our WG2E
All-For-Indies Anthologies!

The Best of Reading Wishes —

D. D. Scott
Co-Founder of
The WG2E

P.S. Watch for The WG2E All-For-Indies
Anthologies Spring Fling Edition coming in April 2012!!!

By D. D. Scott

Chapter One

“The right shoe can change your life…just ask
Cinderella.”

That’s what the Bitchy Sign in the airport’s
gift shop had said. And no, I didn’t buy the damn thing.

Why not?

Because not all of us go totally Cinderella
and marry our own prince.

Okay, yes. My cousin, Zoey Witherspoon,
did.

But there are plenty of us who end up with
frogs. Frogs that never become princes no matter how many times you
kiss ’em.

Hell, at this point, I might just take
another frog. That sure beats my current reality, which is a big
nothing, zero, nada, as in no man in sight.

‘Course now that I’m about to be at the
cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, if I saw a man outside my
first-class cabin window, he would not be my choice of a dating
prospect. Whatever he was doin’ out there couldn’t be good.

Realizing just how far that little sign had
sent me over the edge of my barely-there sanity really scared the
hell out of me. When would I ever get myself put back together
again?

I fought with the coarse blanket I’d
retrieved from the overhead compartment. These miniscule scraps of
fabric were never big enough to cover my long limbs. Luckily, I’d
grown used to the discomforts and irritations of travel and always
brought along my own pashmina scarf. I’m a total Linus, desperately
in need of my blanky.

While struggling with the blanket and my
scarf, I managed to tip over my tote bag, which was way too big to
fit nicely underneath the seat in front of me. Out flew one of my
old business cards.

I thought I’d tossed out every last one of
those bastards months ago.

What the hell?

It must have been hiding in one of the
interior pockets.

After retrieving the card, I couldn’t seem to
quit staring at the fancy metallic embossed letters. I stared so
long my eyes began to water.

“Aldredge & Aldredge” the card read.

Hmph. No need for that second Aldredge now.
And yes.
That
Aldredge was my total nightmare of a frog.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Aldredge, is there anything
I can do for you before departure? Perhaps a cocktail?”

Thankfully or unthankfully, depending on how
you chose to look at it, my self-pity party was interrupted by the
annoyingly kind but canned concern of a flight attendant. The
talking mannequin bore a nameplate identifying her as Allison.

Flashes of rage heated my cheeks. Somehow
though, I managed to contain my deep desire to strangle the shit
out of Allison’s way-too-perky affront.

“That would be
Ms.
Aldredge. And no
thank you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Allison, attendant extraordinaire, who looked
like she should be on that once hot, now cancelled television show
Pan Am – a beehive of an upsweep hairdo included - glanced at her
manifest.

What was that about?

Did she think I didn’t know for sure that I
was now single?

“Let me know if you change your mind and
would like a drink.”

I nodded and buried my head in my hands,
trying to shake off the horror.

And yes, sound reasoning to the rescue, I was
fully aware that Allison had no way of knowing the significance of
her error. But in my book, it was a damn big one. And I wasn’t
about to let it slip by without correcting the offending party.

I closed my eyes and settled back into the
cushions of my reclined seat. The long hours I’d spent reworking an
overdue manuscript had left me drained.

“Ms. Aldredge.” Allison poked me in the arm
with her bone-cold pointer finger. “You must put your seat in the
upright position for takeoff.”

I swore I heard the bitch place emphasis on
the ‘Ms’. But without further comment, I repositioned my seat. I
had bigger battles brewing and didn’t need to start a new one with
Pan Am Barbie.

The sound of the jet’s engines roaring to
life mercifully brought an end to my flight attendant’s
honey-tongued torture. Thank the powers that be she had a cabin to
prepare and no additional time to mess with me.

I leaned against the window and watched
LaGuardia’s runway disappear.

Before the plane could have been off the air
traffic controllers’ radar, I was fast asleep.

Chapter Two

“If Indianapolis is your home, welcome back.
If you’re just visiting, then we hope you enjoy your stay.”

Until the wheels touched down and Allison’s
annoying voice echoed throughout the plane, nothing had broken
through my dream fog.

I sure wish I was here for a short-term
visit, but fate had dealt me a different hand.

Once we’d taxied into our gate and Allison
gave her final set of instructions, I stood up and cracked my head
on the overhead bin.

“Perfect way to begin my journey,” I muttered
to myself while checking the bin to make sure nothing had fallen
out of my laptop bag. I’d left the damn thing unzipped. And since
“idiot” was now my middle name, that was par for the course.

On my way to retrieve my baggage, I spotted
the blessed Starbuck’s mermaid and privately praised sweet
serendipity.

Perhaps all hope for me was not lost. I could
sure use a black eye. The single shot of espresso included in my
normal red eye just wasn’t going to cut it today.

Noticing the juice bar next to the Starbucks,
I had to laugh. If my cousin Zoey had been with me, we’d be going
there too for one of her horrendous all-things-green wheat grass
shots.

I, on the other hand, don’t like much of
anything good for me. Including men. I had a knack for choosing
losers across the board. Except in one particular area of
expertise, where I’d had nothing but winners. Big-time winners.

Seeing a combination newsstand and bookstore
conveniently located on the opposite side of Starbuck’s, I couldn’t
pass it up. It just wasn’t in my nature to walk past a bookstore,
even though I did all my reading on a Kindle.

For that matter, my world as of late seemed
to revolve around all-things-Kindle and Ereaders in general. Most
of the freelance editing I’d contracted was for many of today’s
hottest Indie Epub superstars.

Now that I was freelancing and getting paid
well for preparing manuscripts to become Ebooks, browsing these
little shops seemed like taking a stroll through the past. A past
my Ex refused to let go of. Yep, he was on the TradiPub Titanic.
I…had sailed on. He was going to sink along with all The Big Six
publishers. I wasn’t.

In fact, I would be the perfect subject for
some New York Times piece on the Epublishing World. If newspapers
like The Times, firmly entrenched in the world of The Big Six - who
spend major bucks advertising with them - gave a shit about
reality.

Setting my carry-on bag between my feet, I
freed my hands to explore the storefront racks and shelves. I
focused my attention first, as I always did when beginning my
perusal of a new store, on the Bestseller display. Like a child
seeing his or her artwork proudly displayed on the refrigerator, I
smiled triumphantly.

Four of my authors anchored down the second,
third, sixth and seventh slots. Not bad for a once senior, then
executive, now totally on her own freelance editor.

Luckily for me, my authors were selling
Ebooks by the cyber truckload. They were out of contract and had no
interest in continuing to be screwed by The Big Six. They were all
going Indie Epub all the way, meaning I hadn’t lost a single client
and stood to gain a gazillion new ones.

I pulled up the handle of my suitcase and
headed for the rental car area.

The fact that the second place author, Nicky
Blane, had survived getting his last book published was not only a
miracle for him but for me as well. If I’d spent one more session
with him, one of us would have ended up on Death Row and the other
would be buried several feet beneath the earth’s surface.