Love Addicts Anonymous: Part One Read online

  Love Addicts Anonymous

  Part One

  J. C. Reed

  Jackie Steele

  Contents

  Title

  Love Addicts Anonymous

  Also By J.C. Reed

  About

  Prologue

  Two months later

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Thank you!

  More from the authors

  Subscribe to J.C. Reed’s Mailing List

  Love Addicts Anonymous

  Part One

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  * * *

  J.C. REED

  &

  Jackie Steele

  Copyright © 2016 by J.C. Reed and Jackie Steele

  jcreedauthor.com

  * * *

  Cover Design by © Larissa Klein,

  Inline editing by The Passionate Proofreader

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also By J.C. Reed

  The Surrender Your Love Series

  Surrender Your Love

  Conquer Your Love

  Treasure Your Love

  * * *

  The No Exceptions Series (A standalone, spin-off series about Brooke and Jett)

  The Lover’s Secret

  The Lover’s Game

  The Lover’s Promise

  The Lover’s Surrender

  * * *

  The An Indecent Proposal Series

  That Guy (A short prequel novella)

  The Interview

  The Agreement

  Bad Boy

  * * *

  Standalone Novels

  Beautiful Distraction

  Wild for You (coming March 2017)

  * * *

  Kade Wright is an expert in rocking any woman's world.

  * * *

  Sexy, rich, and the type you don’t bring home to meet your mother, he has broken more hearts than he can remember, and there is no end in sight. Until one mistake lands him in boiling hot waters. When his company orders him to the LOVE ADDICTS ANONYMOUS Rehab Center, he better get his affairs in order or else he loses his seat on the company board.

  * * *

  Love isn’t supposed to be addictive. But for Vicky Sullivan it is.

  * * *

  A true romantic at heart, she comes with a bit of a stalking tendency, and is completely not adverse to commitment. But who’s Kade to judge? As someone who’s seeking commitment and afraid of never finding love, she’s the type of woman he wouldn’t usually hit on. Except, she’s hot and keeps avoiding him…yes, even after seeing his private parts naked in all their glory.

  * * *

  Kade isn’t known as the tall, dark and ruthless businessman for no reason. Romance isn’t in the air, more like wild between the sheets action with no expectations. Vicky’s convinced she can resist, but Kade has other plans for her.

  * * *

  Can Vicky stay away from the one man who seems so easy to get and so hard to keep?

  Author’s note:

  This is a work of fiction, meaning places, the rehab program, and people mentioned are the product of the author’s mind and altered to make it a product of fantasy.

  The program doesn’t exist on Roanoke Island. But let’s be real, are you reading a sexy romantic comedy or are you looking for a travel guide?

  Dedication

  To all who’ve loved and who’ve lost:

  Never give up loving someone, not even when it’s difficult or not returned. Here’s to believing in new beginnings and finding love in the most unlikely places.

  Prologue

  VICKY

  * * *

  Jane Austen Fan Club

  PO BOX

  January 1st

  * * *

  Dear Jane,

  * * *

  For the last hundred years or so, your delightful words have etched their way into every young woman’s buoyant heart hoping for a bit of romance in her life. Your books have given us hope. They’ve made us dream, but after spending years of my life looking for my Mr. Darcy, I’ve come to realize you were a romantic, just like the rest of us, and the path ahead isn’t as fluffy as you made it out to be. For all I know, Mr. Darcy may always remain a beautiful dream (preferably one with lots of sex in it because I’m not getting very much of that lately.) However, I will never give up dreaming because, even if Mr. Darcy doesn’t exist, maybe some day, Mr. Darcy’s poorer and less sexy brother will trudge along. I’m definitely game for giving him a try.

  * * *

  Lots of love,

  Vicky Sullivan

  Two months later

  Jane Austen Fan Club

  PO Box

  March 12th

  * * *

  Dear Jane,

  * * *

  I think I’ve found him—my own Mr. Darcy. Actually, I’m quite sure of it. While we haven’t met at some uptight ball, like Elizabeth, Starbucks isn’t so bad a place either. He spilled hot coffee on me (I’m sporting a small scar, but who am I to complain when we’re talking about true love here) and then he asked me to have a cup of coffee with him the next day. So far, we’ve only gone on two dates, and no se*…uhm, lovemaking, but my heart’s already confident. He’s the one. We might not be Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in the sense that we don’t talk much, but in the silence surrounding us, we say everything.

  * * *

  Lots of love,

  Vicky Sullivan

  1

  VICKY

  * * *

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter under my breath as soon as the bus pulls into a potholed road. Looking out of the window, the only thing I can make out is a vast space of trees and water, and yet more water. It feels as if I’m part of another world even though that is impossible. We are as deep in North Carolina as one can get.

  Throughout our drive, I spied a few shops, the Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge, and even caught a glimpse of the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site. It sure feels like we’re far away from civilization, but the driver keeps assuring me we’re only “a stone’s throw” away from the buzzing nightlife.

  I should have clarified his interpretation of the term “buzzing nightlife.”

  Roanoke Island is beautiful. I’ve read tourists are all over this pla
ce, but right now it feels more like a death sentence than a blissful oasis. On top of the seclusion, the clouds are as dark and ominous as the feelings inside me and the dread of losing myself.

  Okay. I’m not going to panic. I refuse to. I’m going to stay on this tiny island for only six weeks. Six weeks.

  Forty-two days.

  1001 hours.

  It should be as easy as pie. Except, I have the feeling it won’t.

  It’s going to be a fucking disaster, that’s what it is.

  “What are you in here for?” A voice disrupts my thoughts.

  I turn my head.

  A young woman is sitting behind me in the half-empty bus, her expensive fragrance wafting over. Apart from me and her, there are eight other women—all ranging from their mid twenties to their forties, all of them miserable looking. Or maybe that’s just reflection, and I’m only seeing what I want to see.

  Most of them are dressed in casual clothes like me, except for the one behind me. She’s wearing a short dress and high heels—I glimpsed her attire when she asked the driver to stop several times. Something about her having a weak bladder. She’s the reason we’re late. In fact, very late, which has diminished my hope of figuring out how to file a complaint immediately upon our arrival.

  I barely give her another glance as my attention focuses back on the scenery outside the window.

  “To be honest, I still have no idea,” I mumble more to myself than to her.

  That’s half the truth.

  Theoretically, I know what I did wrong when the judge court-ordered me to this place.

  Theoretically, too, I know they were all exaggerating when they claimed I broke into Bruce’s home. What I did was most certainly not breaking and entering.

  I lift my hand to the glass and draw an invisible heart, my mind wandering back to the person who’s responsible for this.

  “I don’t belong here,” I find myself whispering. “It’s all a big misunderstanding.”

  “That’s what everyone says before they hit rock bottom.” She lets out a knowing laugh a moment before she slides into the empty seat beside me. A pale hand moves past me, hovering in mid air. “I’m Sylvie, by the way. Sylvie Holton.”

  I shake her hand. “Just Vicky.”

  “This place is going to be amazing, you know,” the girl continues, oblivious to my wish to be left alone.

  “How do you know?” I narrow my eyes to regard her closer. Her long blonde hair looks like a cascade of bright sunshine over her naked shoulders. Her eyes, blue and wide, are staring at me, full of curiosity and something else: knowledge.

  As though she’s been here before.

  “I just know.” She lets out a laugh, and I instantly know she’s one of those people who seem to laugh and smile all the time. I’ve always admired optimists and their ability to see the positive in the aftermath of drama. That’s a skill I haven’t mastered yet. “That, and my research has dug up a few things.”

  “Yeah?” I pull up my brows in interest.

  “Yeah,” she replies matter-of-factly.

  My curiosity is piqued. “What did you found out?”

  “For starters, they’ve just reopened some of the historical centers,” she says with a soft smile, like that’s supposed to tell me something. “This place actually gets a lot of tourist attraction, but since there are going to be renovations in the next few weeks, the place will be closed to the public before summer, which is why they’ve turned one of the historical buildings into a temporary rehab center.” The words pour out of her like a waterfall. Jesus. She can talk fast without breathing. I can barely keep up with her.

  “Uhm—”

  I stare at her, unsure what the heck she’s talking about.

  “Good for us,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to have a whole island to myself.” Her eyes light up.

  I don’t think the renovations plan was included with the info leaflet they sent me as a means of making it look like I had a choice in coming here. And I sure didn’t take it upon me to find out much about the place after the hearing.

  My eyes narrow as I give her a critical glance. Her eyes are framed by heavy eyeliner. She’s wearing fake eyelashes. Her whole posture is relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who is about to enter this kind of facility. She’s styled as though she’s about to join a party. She wears expensive designer shoes. And isn’t she the one with the tons of bags? The driver could barely cram them inside.

  Maybe she’s one of the counselors?

  “Are you working here?” I ask, unable to control the sudden mistrust seeping into my voice.

  “I wish.” She lets out a hearty laugh. “But no, I’m here to get therapy.” She eyes me, amused. “Like you.”

  I cringe at the word.

  She says it like it’s not a big deal.

  I ponder her words. Finally, I give a sigh, curiosity rising within me.

  “You don’t seem too bothered by this,” I state. “What are you in here for?

  “I came out of my own free will.”

  “Right.” It makes so much sense, and yet it doesn’t. “I didn’t know that was even possible.” I draw my eyebrows up in surprise, then give a short nod. “Well, good for you. So, you can leave anytime, right?”

  “Yeah, but who would do that?”

  “Yeah, who would do that?” I make a face. How anyone could choose to stay of their own will is beyond me.

  “Do you know where you’ll be placed?”

  “No idea. And right now, I’m not sure I want to know.” I shrug and turn my head back to the window, eyeing the unknown territory and ignoring the pangs of desperation washing over me.

  I wish they had let me keep my phone.

  The very phone I had to hand in before we boarded the bus from our meeting point to North Carolina. The only thing that would have kept me connected to the world, my real world. Now it’s gone, a figment of my past. Gone along with pictures of Bruce. His texts. The possibility of checking his updates on Facebook to see if he’s online and what he’s up to.

  Bruce.

  My heart slams against my ribcage.

  Bruce.

  If only I could get in touch with him to find out what he’s doing right now and if he’s thinking of me.

  Oh, wait.

  A thought hits me.

  If Sylvie can leave anytime, maybe she’ll send a secret message to Bruce for me. Maybe she’ll become a sort of messenger. I’ll ask for nothing major. Just to know if he’s okay and that he’s received the long text I sent right before they confiscated my phone.

  The thought makes me giddy with excitement.

  “Sylvie, right?” I ask to be sure I got the name right, which earns me a small nod. “You said you could leave anytime?”

  “Yeah,” she replies and adds quickly, “I hope they’ll place us together in the same group so we can support each other.”

  “That would be great,” I say with a sudden rush of excitement. “It would be a lot of fun if we could get to know this place together and help each other out.”

  For example, by texting certain people, which I don’t mention just yet.

  “I’m not sure we can roam freely, what with the renovations under way,” she says thoughtfully.

  “Of course.” I nod my head. “But maybe they’ll make an exception to ensure we’re not bored to death.”

  She lets out a loud, hearty laugh that has everyone turning their heads to us, and I can’t help but realize I like her. Maybe we’ll be friends.

  It wouldn’t be so bad to have an ally in a place like this, especially when my new friend is going to help bring Bruce and me together.

  “I doubt that’s even possible. My job is already boring as shit,” Sylvie says. “I’m a business strategist. You?”

  My stomach relaxes before tightening into knots again. “I’m a nurse…”

  “That’s so cool.”

  “—in an elderly home.”

  “Still cool.”

  That’s ho
w I met him, I want to tell her.

  Bruce.

  He was visiting his elderly gran after New Year’s Eve, and she introduced me to him. A few weeks later, I met him again at Starbucks, and he invited me for coffee.

  God, I miss him.

  If only I could let him know that I love him like crazy.

  I can’t wait for the whole thing to be over and get back to my old life.

  “Look.” Sylvie moves her arm past me and points a long index finger to the window. “We’re here.”

  I follow her line of vision. As I make out the shapes, my smile dies on my lips and my frown deepens.

  Ahead of us is a white building. It’s expensive and big. And frigging ancient.

  It must be at least two hundred years old. At least from the look of it.

  Please let it not be it.

  Please.

  I shudder at the thought of sleeping in an old bed. It’s an irrational fear I have. Like the fear of never meeting someone who’ll love me and want to grow old together. Or ending up all alone with only a couple of cats as company. Nothing against cats. I love them, but let’s face it, they’re not always exciting company.

  It’s the same fear—the fear of losing someone—that got me in trouble with the judge. In my humble opinion, it’s nothing reading a self-help book couldn’t solve.