Read Online SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror by C.C. Wood, N.M. Silber, Liv Morris, Belle Aurora, R.S. Grey, Daisy Prescott, Jodie Beau, Z.B. Heller, Penny Reid, Ruth Clampett, Ashley Pullo, L.H. Cosway, Jennie Marts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C.C. Wood, N.M. Silber, Liv Morris, Belle Aurora, R.S. Grey, Daisy Prescott, Jodie Beau, Z.B. Heller, Penny Reid, Ruth Clampett, Ashley Pullo, L.H. Cosway, Jennie Marts
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now, who wrapped candy in tulle for a bunch of people who made fun of me behind my back? Was that where I was headed by being the girl with the dead husband who wasn’t ready for dating? I had Lucie for now, and she deserved all of my attention after all she’d been through. But twelve more years and she’d be off to college, and I’d be … what?
***
11:16 A.M.
“Shut the fuck up.” Hope called me at work every morning while she drank her coffee on the balcony of her Manhattan apartment. Sometimes she photographed the coffee and the view and texted it to me. This morning’s photo showed her sweater-covered hands cradling the hot mug. Her thumbs stuck out of little holes at the end of the sleeves. Her nails were perfectly polished in olive green, and her calves were up on the bistro table in the background, covered in cozy, knitted knee-high socks. I didn’t send her a text of my view. It definitely wasn’t as cool as hers. Maybe what I really needed in my life was a pair of knitted knee-high socks.
“Seriously. Shut the fuck up,” she repeated.
I didn’t respond. I never knew what to say to that remark.
“What are you gonna wear?” she asked. She had a deep voice for a woman. If she was big and butchy, she’d frighten people. But she was about 110 lbs and blonde, so she was revered for it instead.
See, this was a problem. Not Hope’s voice, but my clothing options. I was planning on wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. Now that I sort-of had a date, I wondered if I should wear something sexy. But I wasn’t sure if I had the ability to look sexy, even if I tried. I’d probably end up looking like a desperate mom who was trying too hard to play MILF.
“I don’t know. It’s going to be cold. I was thinking of a hoodie and jeans.”
“No. Not on a date with Ben Ogea.”
“It’s not really a date. I don’t think.”
“I don’t care. You’re not wearing a hoodie. This isn’t a football game.”
“I could go in costume,” I said, hoping that option would make the hoodie look like the lesser of the evils.
“I think skinny jeans, boots, and a sweater will be perfect. And no ponytail, Cora. At least use a flat iron. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. But you don’t want to look like you just don’t give a shit either. You need a happy balance.”
A happy balance. Kind of like the gazpacho I was eating for lunch. On a positive note, it was low-cal and made of superfoods. On a less positive note, I’d just spent $8 to basically eat salsa with a spoon.
“And don’t forget to pencil in your eyebrows,” she said.
***
12:16 P.M.
I left work before noon so I could be there for Lucie’s Halloween parade. I stood on the sidewalk around the school and tried to pick her out from all the other Elsas. I waved to her when I found her and took clumsy pictures with my phone when she walked by.
Tabitha took pictures of The Fuckers with a Canon Rebel. I didn’t know anything about cameras, but I overheard the FMs talking one morning about who had the best camera, and Tabitha insisted her Canon Rebel was the best on the market. I guess that explained why she was the designated Fucker Photographer of the day. There was no sign of the Fucker Fathers. That didn’t surprise me. They never showed up for anything. I wouldn’t show up if I was married to them either.
Ben was standing next to his ex-wife on the other side of the playground. They both went giddy when Olive walked by. I did my best to avoid looking in their direction. I was now certain this was not going to be a date tonight. There was no way he could want anything to do with me after being married to her . Look at her with her leather jacket and all of her bracelets and belt.
You want to know how many belts I owned? Two. You want to know when I wore those belts? When my pants felt a little loose – and that didn’t happen often enough.
How was it that some women knew exactly how to accessorize, and
***
11:16 A.M.
“Shut the fuck up.” Hope called me at work every morning while she drank her coffee on the balcony of her Manhattan apartment. Sometimes she photographed the coffee and the view and texted it to me. This morning’s photo showed her sweater-covered hands cradling the hot mug. Her thumbs stuck out of little holes at the end of the sleeves. Her nails were perfectly polished in olive green, and her calves were up on the bistro table in the background, covered in cozy, knitted knee-high socks. I didn’t send her a text of my view. It definitely wasn’t as cool as hers. Maybe what I really needed in my life was a pair of knitted knee-high socks.
“Seriously. Shut the fuck up,” she repeated.
I didn’t respond. I never knew what to say to that remark.
“What are you gonna wear?” she asked. She had a deep voice for a woman. If she was big and butchy, she’d frighten people. But she was about 110 lbs and blonde, so she was revered for it instead.
See, this was a problem. Not Hope’s voice, but my clothing options. I was planning on wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. Now that I sort-of had a date, I wondered if I should wear something sexy. But I wasn’t sure if I had the ability to look sexy, even if I tried. I’d probably end up looking like a desperate mom who was trying too hard to play MILF.
“I don’t know. It’s going to be cold. I was thinking of a hoodie and jeans.”
“No. Not on a date with Ben Ogea.”
“It’s not really a date. I don’t think.”
“I don’t care. You’re not wearing a hoodie. This isn’t a football game.”
“I could go in costume,” I said, hoping that option would make the hoodie look like the lesser of the evils.
“I think skinny jeans, boots, and a sweater will be perfect. And no ponytail, Cora. At least use a flat iron. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. But you don’t want to look like you just don’t give a shit either. You need a happy balance.”
A happy balance. Kind of like the gazpacho I was eating for lunch. On a positive note, it was low-cal and made of superfoods. On a less positive note, I’d just spent $8 to basically eat salsa with a spoon.
“And don’t forget to pencil in your eyebrows,” she said.
***
12:16 P.M.
I left work before noon so I could be there for Lucie’s Halloween parade. I stood on the sidewalk around the school and tried to pick her out from all the other Elsas. I waved to her when I found her and took clumsy pictures with my phone when she walked by.
Tabitha took pictures of The Fuckers with a Canon Rebel. I didn’t know anything about cameras, but I overheard the FMs talking one morning about who had the best camera, and Tabitha insisted her Canon Rebel was the best on the market. I guess that explained why she was the designated Fucker Photographer of the day. There was no sign of the Fucker Fathers. That didn’t surprise me. They never showed up for anything. I wouldn’t show up if I was married to them either.
Ben was standing next to his ex-wife on the other side of the playground. They both went giddy when Olive walked by. I did my best to avoid looking in their direction. I was now certain this was not going to be a date tonight. There was no way he could want anything to do with me after being married to her . Look at her with her leather jacket and all of her bracelets and belt.
You want to know how many belts I owned? Two. You want to know when I wore those belts? When my pants felt a little loose – and that didn’t happen often enough.
How was it that some women knew exactly how to accessorize, and
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