The Bridge Repair. Misty Malone
Читать онлайн.| Название | The Bridge Repair |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Misty Malone |
| Жанр | Эротическая литература |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Эротическая литература |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9781645635109 |
The Bridge Repair
Misty Malone
Published by Blushing Books
An Imprint of
ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.
A Virginia Corporation
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
©2020
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Misty Malone
The Bridge Repair
EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-510-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-64563-511-6
Audio ISBN: 978-1-64563-512-3
v1
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.
Contents
Chapter 1
Kara Kerrington was driving home after work, thinking back over the date she'd somehow just gotten herself roped into. She wasn't at all sure how it had happened, but she did know she had to find a way to get out of it. She knew her coworkers had good intentions and were trying to help, but she had to get them to stop trying to fix her up. She was tired of them setting up blind dates for her, and it had to stop. Everyone claimed to know exactly the type of man she needed, and just happened to know the perfect guy. Unfortunately, she hadn't agreed with any of them. Now two of her friends had gotten together and were sure this would be the one. From what they'd told her, she highly doubted it, but she always had a hard time telling her friends no, so once again they'd worn her down and in the end she'd agreed.
Today was Wednesday and she was supposed to go out with him Friday, so she'd have to come up with something quickly. For now, though, she tried to put it out of her mind. It was a perfect spring day, and she rolled her window down to enjoy the nice weather. She noticed some honeysuckle bushes in the front yard of a house that reminded her of the ones in her parents' yard. She always loved them, and the wonderful aroma from them. Every year she would pick some for her mother, who always put them in a vase and on the table so they could all enjoy them.
She was lost in her memories and didn't see the yellow Mustang barreling down the road toward her until it was obvious he wasn't going to stop at the stop sign and was headed right for her. She instinctively slammed on her brakes as hard as she could, and cringed when she heard the squealing tires. She wished she had a newer car with anti-lock brakes when she felt herself spinning. That threw her head from one side to the other and made her stomach feel queasy. Just as she stopped spinning she saw a big yellow blob she assumed was the Mustang, and seconds later she heard a loud crash.
Her car was thrown about, and she was tossed around inside her car, but eventually it came to a rest. Things were eerily quiet after that, and time seemed to stand still. She heard a horn honk, and wondered why someone was honking their horn now, after it was over. She smelled the honeysuckle bushes she'd been admiring earlier. When her head stopped spinning she felt a sharp pain in her foot, and was about to reach up to rub her sore neck, when she saw the yellow car spinning out of control and heading straight towards her again. Before she could move she heard another screech, and felt another crash. That one knocked her forward and it felt like something exploded in her head as it hit the steering wheel, right before everything went black.
The next thing she remembered was waking up, still in her car, and a man was in her passenger's seat, leaning over her, holding something on her arm. “You're going to be okay, ma'am,” he was telling her. “Can you tell me if you're hurting anywhere?”
“My arm hurts,” she mumbled, still not fully awake. “And my foot.”
Another man appeared at her window, and the man in the car enlisted his help. “Can you hold this on her arm, please? Hold it tight. I'm going to check out her foot.”
Several moments later she felt him feeling her foot, prodding gently. “Does this hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. It hurts down lower.” She felt his fingers running along her foot, and then it felt like he hit it with a sledgehammer. “Ow!”
“Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. He appeared in the seat again and reached over to take the shirt he'd been holding on her arm. “I've got it again. Thank you.” Looking at her then, he spoke in a calm manner. “An ambulance is on its way. We'll get you to the hospital and get your foot x-rayed and get your arm taken care of. Do you hurt anywhere else?”
“My