The Kiss Contract

Contents Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen The Kiss Club Also by Angela Taylor Acknowledgments About the Author Copyright Copyright © 2023 Angela Taylor All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, public or private institutions, corporations, towns and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Firelite Press LLC Middleton, ID 83644 www.AngelaTaylorAuthor.com Cover Design: Kari March Designs ISBN: 978-1-7354925-5-1 (eBook) ISBN: 978-1-7354925-4-4 (Paperback) Dedication For my brother, George I won the lottery when I got you as a brother. I could not, and would not want to do this life without you. I love you. Chapter One “Ouch! Dammit!” Jessa Lockwood squeezed her eyes shut and hissed out a pained breath through clenched teeth. She bent over and pressed her fingers down on the top of her right foot—because that, of course, would make the poor toe she’d just rammed into the bathroom door stop hurting. Yeah, that made perfect sense. Gingerly inspecting the damage, she was happy not to find any blood. This time. After her photoshoot, she was going to the dollar store to buy a pool noodle or bubble wrap or something to cover that stupid corner. The door obviously had a vendetta against her because her roommate had never once run into it. Hell, she should baby-proof the whole damn place while she was at it. And maybe put on steel-toe boots after getting out of bed, rather than walking around barefoot. Graceful had never been in her wheelhouse. Straightening, she pushed the door against the wall, affording herself a wide escape route, then executed a weird little crab walk down the hallway to the kitchen, walking on her full left foot and only the heel of her right. Coffee. She needed coffee. Coffee made everything better, especially at o’dark thirty in the morning. Okay, so it was seven a.m., but still way too early to be up on a Saturday. Even her dog was still in bed, for goodness’ sake. There had to be a law somewhere about not getting up before ten on a weekend, right? If not, there should be. She’d always been a diehard night owl, but today she had an early appointment with Mrs. Bradley’s poodle at nine. At least, being a photographer specializing in pet photography, her clients were always cute. So, instead of snoozing safely in bed, she was standing on one leg like a flamingo, dumping water into the coffee maker. The pain in her toe had subsided to a dull ache, so after turning on the coffee pot, she put her foot down on the cool kitchen tile and tested her weight. Yep, much better. Call off the amputation. Grabbing her wireless earbuds and phone off the counter, she pulled up her music app and hit shuffle, then padded back into the bathroom to brush her teeth. The reflection in the mirror grimaced back at her. Since she’d fallen asleep without unbraiding her hair, it now looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. The bangs she’d grown out in an attempt to look older—because no twenty-seven-year-old should still get carded, even if it had only happened once—had partially escaped and hung in her mascara-smudged eyes. Damn. She’d forgotten to wash off her make-up. Flyaway hairs framed her face like a soft-focus Medusa, and a big section in the back had wriggled out to become a floppy blonde loop, bouncing on the top of her head like a quail’s topknot whenever she moved. “Pretty, huh, Addie?” The golden retriever who’d come to sit at her feet yawned. “Yep, I agree.” Jess proceeded to brush her teeth, humming along as Bruno Mars came on and picked up the pace. She rinsed, then put her electric toothbrush back on the charger. “Now, how the heck…?” With a heavy sigh, she looked down at the baggy T-shirt she wore. Lovely. A blob of toothpaste had somehow landed on her boob. She tried to wipe it off with a tissue, but only managed to smear it further into the fabric. Another labored sigh. Whatever. If Bruno thought she was hot, who was she to argue? Correction—too hot, which was even better. She began singing along to the song. Addie trailed behind as Jess sashayed her way back into the kitchen, stopping every so often to ruffle the dog’s ears in time with the music. She picked up a scoop from a plastic bin full of dog food in the pantry and used it as a microphone. “Stop!” She struck a pose, holding her hand in front of the dog’s face. “Stay a minute. Fill your bowl, put some kibble in it.” She scooped dog food into a metal dish and put it on the floor next to the water bowl, then danced her way across the kitchen to get her favorite mug. It had an image of a camera with the words, “Warning: I could snap at any moment” printed in red ink. Totally fitting for being up this early. * * * Chase Maysen got out of his truck and walked up the driveway to his sister’s house. He fished the key Emery had given him in case of emergencies out of his front pocket and opened the door. He usually knocked out of courtesy, but since it was barely after seven in the morning