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No Love Lost: The Bundle

By

Emma Rose

Copyright © 2016 by Emma Rose

The Cover Incorporates a Stock Image That is Kindly Licensed and © Can Stock Photo Inc. / konradbak

Smashwords Edition

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Crave Romance

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years or older.

No part of this 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 the written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

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My Other Novels and Novellas

9-Book Billionaire Bundle: http://emmaroseromance.com/books/billionaire-bonded/

9-Book Rock Star Bundle: http://emmaroseromance.com/books/rocked-hard/

Backstage Paradise

Bared to Him

The Billionaire's Arrangement

The Billionaire's Contract

The Billionaire's Proposal

Billionaire Untamed

Breathless

Chosen by the Billionaire

His Hidden Desire

No Love Lost

Pleasured

Scandalous: Playing with Fire

Stripped

Take Me

Taking Stage

Three: Anything They Desire

Torn Between: Seduced by the Billionaires

Venice Vampires

If you want to know more about me and read more of my books, please click the link below. It will take you to a page where you can find all of my published books!

Click here to see my other books!

No Love Lost: The Bundle

Part 1

Stacy turned off the oven and pulled out the heavy, glass pan of macaroni and cheese. The cheesy casserole was beautifully golden brown on top, just like her daughter liked it, and the smell of the three cheeses that she used—asiago, sharp cheddar, and smoked gouda—rose up like a warm mist over her face and nose.

Perfect. She smiled as she put the hot container on top of the stove, feeling like a good Suzy Homemaker for the first time in ages. Next to the pan that was still steaming from the oven sat a bowl of sautéed broccoli and a platter of grilled chicken breasts. Dinner was officially done.

As Stacy pulled off the oven mitts, she heard the front door click open then close firmly shut.

Her daughter, Amanda, called out. Mom, I’m home!

Stacy grinned, wiping her hands on the back of her cut-off jeans shorts. It was like the girl had a knack for knowing exactly when food was ready. It had to be her super power.

I’m in the kitchen, she called back.

Her daughter bounced into their small kitchen, pretty and feminine even in her soccer uniform and cleats, the thick, black, curly hair she’d inherited from Stacy pulled back from her face in a shoulder-length ponytail. Her face glowed with sweat, probably from her jog down the street from her friend, Kisha’s, nearby house.

Stacy kissed her daughter’s cheek with a loud smack, smoothed a hand over her hair. Amanda had boundless energy that reminded Stacy of herself when she was that age—fourteen and with plenty of energy to burn. Amanda squeezed her back, hugging her waist tight and pulling back with a straight-toothed smile. The dazzling white grin was so much like her father’s that for a moment Stacy felt a stab of pain. She cleared her throat and stroked the thick ponytail. Turned away back to the stove.

Smells yummy. Amanda pulled her cell phone from her pocket and put it on the small dining table that sat in the nook just off the kitchen. She dropped a small stack of mail beside the phone. I came home just in time!

Amanda’s ponytail bounced against the pale blue fabric of her shirt as she went to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. She opened the cupboard and reached for dishes to set the table.

How was school today? Stacy asked.

Pretty good. Same old stuff. Anna Buchanan fell asleep in class today and had her period. She was bleeding all over her chair.

Stacy winced in sympathy for the poor girl. That’s awful, honey.

Yeah, but it’s OK. Anna is used to doing stuff like that. She doesn’t care about embarrassing herself like that in front of everyone.

Stacy doubted that was the case, but she only made another noise of sympathy. If that happened to me, I don’t know if I’d even come back to school the next day, I’d be so embarrassed.

You’re so sensitive, Mom. Amanda set the plates and forks on the table, brought out two tall glasses and the pitcher of pear juice she made the day before.

Stacy shook her head. Only her daughter would say something like that. Anyone Stacy had known at school would have thought she didn’t have a warm feeling in her entire body. The ice queen Stacy who everyone still managed to like, or at least respect. But that was years ago.

By the way, Mom, you got an invitation to your high school reunion in the mail today.

Stacy looked up at her daughter who was pouring juice into two tall glasses already filled with ice. She pulled a metal spatula out of a drawer. How would you know?

I opened the envelope. Amanda’s grin was unrepentant.

What? Stacy stared at her daughter.

She didn’t even know why she was shocked. Amanda had little enough boundaries where their relationship was concerned. But Stacy knew she didn’t have anyone to blame but herself. Sometimes she treated Amanda more like a friend than a daughter.

It’s your fifteenth reunion, Momma. You should go. Everything I saw on the internet says this is a big one. Amanda sat down at the table, grabbed one of the envelopes from the stack and waved it at Stacy. You should go. It’ll be fun. You never go out anymore. That can’t be good for you.

Why was her fourteen-year-old daughter giving her advice about her social life? Things must seem really desperate. I think the tenth reunion is more important, Stacy said, although she hadn’t gone to that one either. Besides, I’m not going. I’m sure I’m busy that night. She stood with her back to the counter, the spatula still gripped in her hand. There was no way she was going to that damn reunion.

But you should go, Momma! Amanda pulled out the invitation and read off the details in her high, sing-song voice.

The reunion was a couple of weeks away and at a country club about a half-hour from where they lived. The notice promised fun and lots of good times catching up with old classmates and reconnecting with them after many years.

It sounds awesome! Her daughter finished the presentation with a wide smile. "I think it would be cool to see what my friends from now are doing in fifteen years. We’d all be so old!"

Stacy scooped macaroni and cheese and pieces of grilled chicken along with broccoli in her daughter’s plate, then her own. She shook her head again, unable to even ponder the thought of going to her high school reunion after so many years of change.

It wasn’t that she was worried about her softer body, or the new lines on her face, or even the cellulite that had migrated to thighs that had once been smooth and muscular from cheerleading, volleyball, and soccer. It was because her life itself was different. Less than what it once was.

The reality of her life now was far from the promise of what it had been back then. In high school, she was the homecoming queen. Prom queen. Dating the high school quarterback. Unofficially voted the school’s most beautiful three years in a row.

But now, here she was. Divorced from the high school quarterback who had gotten her pregnant during the last few months of