Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes. Gena Showalter

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       CHAPTER TWO

      A BAREFOOT BAY destination wedding. Complete with a wide expanse of glistening beach, crashing cerulean waves, a magical pink-gold sunset and a warm, sultry breeze. White rose petals formed a line along the fine-grained sand; as the wind blew, a few of those petals danced and twirled away. The couple even now pledging their undying love stared deeply into each other’s eyes, their hands clutched tightly, their lips parted in expectation of the coming kiss.

      They presented a beautiful sight—but Shaye Holling only wanted to gag.

      However, she maintained her smile, brittle though it was, and fought the urge to adjust her ill-fitting seashell bikini top. The grass skirt itched her calves.

      The more horrid-looking the bridesmaids, the more exquisite the bride, eh?

      Thanks, Mom.

      Yep. Her mother was the bride.

      Shaye shifted uncomfortably, her shoulders burning. She’d been standing in the sunlight for only half an hour, but her ultrapale skin had already turned a lovely shade of lobster red.

      In fact, the richly dressed crowd of onlookers no longer eyed the bride and groom. Instead, they stared at Shaye.

      And why not? Red skin. White hair. Brown eyes. Blue seashells. Green skirt. I’m a freaking rainbow.

      She shifted again and dang it, her seashells dipped, forcing her to adjust.

      Silver lining: a new idea for her business, Anti-Cards, popped into her mind.

      Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of you, I found religion. I finally believe in hell.

      She sighed. Her mother’s long silvery-white hair—so like Shaye’s own—waved down her back, a perfect mimic of the creamy satin slip dress billowing at her ankles. Nowhere was there a woman more gorgeous than Tamara soon-to-be Waddell. No one more surgically enhanced. No one else who went through men like sexual Kleenex.

      Okay. There was probably someone else who went through men like sexual Kleenex. But come on! This was her mom’s sixth marriage.

      Tamara looked over at her and frowned. Back straight, Shaye, she mouthed. Smile.

      A straight back displays your breasts to their best advantage, Shaye.

      A smile is honey and men are flies, Shaye.

      Do you want to die alone, Shaye?

      Shaye straightened her shoulders to make her mother happy and pretended to focus on the minister.

      “‘To love, honor and cherish...’” His smooth baritone created a perfect harmony with the gentle lap of waves.

      Mostly, she heard love, blah, blah, blah.

      Love. How she despised the word. People used love as an excuse to do ridiculous things.

      He cheated on me, but I’m going to stay with him because I love him.

      He hit me, but I’m going to stay with him because I love him.

      He stole every penny from my savings, but I’m not going to press charges because I love him.

      Her mother had said each of those things at one time or another.

      And how many times had Tamara’s boyfriends groped Shaye herself, claiming they’d fallen in love with her?

      Her, a mere child.

      Shaye’s father was another prime example of the “love is all that matters” idiocy.

      I can’t live with you and your mom, Shaye. I don’t love her anymore. I love Glenda.

      His secretary. Of course, after Glenda had lost her sparkle, he’d fallen for Charlene, then Kasey, then Morgan.

      When Morgan divorced him to be with another man, Shaye sent him an I’m so sorry card. What she’d really wanted to send was a Finally getting what you deserve sucks big-time, doesn’t it? card, but none had been available—the very reason she’d started making her own.

      Over the years, her Anti-Card business had only grown. There were a lot of people out there who wanted to tell someone to screw off—in a fun way.

      She worked close to eighty hours a week, but she loved every second. A love that would never come back to bite her.

      Thanks to popular cards like I’m so miserable without you, it’s almost like you’re here and You can do more with a kind word and a gun than with just a kind word, she provided jobs for twenty-three like-minded men and women and made more money than she’d ever dreamed possible.

      Life, for the weird-looking little girl who’d only ever disappointed her parents, was finally...not good, not really, but good enough.

      She sighed.

      “You may now kiss the bride,” the minister said.