Tangled Hearts

TANGLED HEARTS Gig Harbor Series M. S. PARKER Belmonte Publishing, LLC This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. V1 Copyright © 2023 Belmonte Publishing LLC Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC Contents Free Book Tangle Hearts Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Epilogue DARKER: Preview Also by M. S. Parker Free Book Get a new book for FREE! Click Here to subscribe to my newsletter and start reading the exclusive 200 pages stand-alone steamy romance, His Inspiration. Tangle Hearts Prologue Aria There I was, in the center of a human hurricane, just trying to make my way to the bartender and order another round of drinks. My friends and I were celebrating in this jam-packed bar that smelled like the aftermath of a frat party. As I passed by some douche who was at least five drinks past his limit, I swatted away his wandering hand that was going for my ass. He whined like a kicked puppy while his buddy just laughed. With an eye roll that could’ve won an Olympic medal, I bulldozed forward, squeezing between two mammoth bald dudes who looked like they chowed down on nails for breakfast. Finally reaching the counter, I twisted my long hair up and let out an exasperated sigh as the cool air from the AC above the bar greeted the back of my neck like a long-lost friend. Seriously, this place was hotter than Satan’s armpit on laundry day. “ID,” the bartender mumbled in my direction, as he slid a drink to the guy on my right. My eyes did another Olympic-level backflip. “You know I bought a round like, what, thirty minutes ago, right?” I fished out my ID from my pocket and waved it in front of him like I was performing a magic trick. He shrugged, grinning like a kid who’d just stolen candy from a baby. “Sorry, sweetheart, it’s nothing personal. I’m not risking our liquor license on trying to remember who I carded, and when.” “Sweetheart? Really?” I shot back. He rolled his eyes and plopped the three drinks on a tray for me. “Fine, ma’am.” I scowled, but not at the ‘ma’am’ part. He hadn’t asked for my order. He’d remembered that from last time, but still had to see my ID. Male bartenders, always trying to flex those authority muscles like they’re the bouncers of the booze world. “Aria Reed!” Madison hollered from across the bar. “Get your ass back here with our drinks!” I flashed a grin as I made my way to my friends, drinks in hand, so we could continue celebrating my promotion to senior designer at Webwise Solutions. At barely twenty-one, I was the youngest senior designer in the company’s history. You’d think, since it was my big night, I wouldn’t be the one buying the drinks. But Lily was a barista and Madison did computer coding for some tiny company, so none of us were exactly rolling in dough. We took turns buying rounds, no matter the occasion. “So, who’s up next?” I asked, sipping my Malibu Sunset. “It’s your turn.” Lily Thompson was a year older than me, but with her blonde curls and petite build, I knew she’d still be getting carded long after I stopped. Grabbing the three darts from the table, I barely took a second to aim and then, in three quick movements, let them fly. Thunk, thunk, thunk. One on either side of the bull’s eye and the last dead center. “How the hell do you do that?” Madison downed her shot of whiskey, making a face that said she’d have been better off drinking turpentine. “I mean it. How do you just turn and throw and hit it like that?” I shrugged. “Good hand-eye coordination?” Madison flipped me off and went to retrieve the darts. “Soooo, Madison and I were talking…” Lily began. I groaned. Whenever she started a sentence with ‘Madison and I,’ I knew I was in for trouble. “We came up with a list of songs we think would be perfect for you–” “Nope.” I cut her off like a karate chop. “I told you two, I’m not singing karaoke.” “Tell you what,” Madison chimed in, lining up her shot. “I think you just got lucky throwing those darts before. So, if I beat you in this round, you must sing three songs when karaoke night starts.” “One,” I countered. I couldn’t carry a tune even if it had handles. They just wanted to see me make a fool of myself in front of the entire crowd. “Worried?” Madison grinned. I narrowed my eyes and glared at her. “Fine. Three. But what do I get when I beat you?” “Next round on me, if you beat me,” Madison said, winking. With the precision of a surgeon, Madison threw her darts. One hit dead center, one in the circle right outside it, and the last in the next circle. Not bad, but I knew I could do better. I went to retrieve the darts, already plotting my victory, when the TV screen on the wall caught my attention. Or, more specifically, the picture and name on the screen. Rachel Blackwell. My foster sister. Who was apparently missing. What the