Blow Me Down
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Praise for Katie MacAlister
You Slay Me
“Smart, sexy, and laugh-out-loud funny!”
—Christine Feehan
“Graced with MacAlister’s signature sharp wit and fabulously fun characters, this paranormal romance is wickedly sensual and irresistibly amusing.”
—Booklist
“A brilliant madcap adventure from MacAlister. . . . It’s refreshingly offbeat, with the quirky, laugh-till-you-hurt MacAlister style, promising this to be one of the most original paranormal series since Melanie Jackson set loose those pesky Goblins to torment us! So here’s to more adventures of Aisling and Drake.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“[A] hilariously funny and charming story from beginning to end. . . . Combining humor, suspense, and intriguing characters, Katie MacAlister has written a real winner. . . . Pick up your copy today. It’s definitely one for the keeper shelf.”
—Romance Reviews Today
The Corset Diaries
“Reality TV has never been more entertaining than here as the wickedly funny MacAlister has her heroine record her hilarious experiences with a quirky cast of characters and her passionate encounters with Max in a laughter-laced diary that is a saucy, sexy delight.”
—Booklist
“Offbeat and wacky. . . . MacAlister has outdone herself with this reality show run amok. Tessa and Max are funny, sexy, and slightly poignant—a true match.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
“An enjoyable contemporary romance. . . . The story line is fun to follow. . . . Fans will enjoy this entertaining anachronistic look at displacement as the modern crowd struggles with life just over a century ago.”
—The Best Reviews
Men in Kilts
“With its wickedly witty writing, wonderfully snappy dialogue, and uniquely amusing characters, MacAlister’s latest is perfect for any reader seeking a deliciously sexy yet also subtly sweet contemporary romance.”
—Booklist
“A fun, fast-paced, and witty adventure. . . . Men in Kilts is so utterly delightful, I read this book nearly all in one sitting.”
—Roundtable Reviews
“Katie MacAlister sparkles, intrigues, and is one of the freshest voices to hit romance. . . . So buckle up, for Katie gives you romance, love, and the whole damn thing—sheep included.”
—The Best Reviews
“Men in Kilts is filled with warm, intriguing characters and situations, and the atmosphere is fiery as Katie and her silent Ian irresistibly draw you into their story.”
—Rendezvous
“Wonderfully witty, funny, and romantic, Men in Kilts had me laughing out loud from the first page . . . a definite winner.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“This book hooked me from the first paragraph and kept me smiling—and sometimes laughing out loud—to the last page. . . . I thoroughly enjoyed Men in Kilts and recommend it highly.”
—Affaire de Coeur
A Girl’s Guide to Vampires
“With its superb characterization and writing that manages to be both sexy and humorous, this contemporary paranormal love story is an absolute delight.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Fantastic! It’s sensual, it’s hilarious, and it’s a winner! Ms. MacAlister is my favorite new author.”
—Reader to Reader Reviews
Improper English
“Funny, quirky, and enjoyable. Don’t miss this one!”
—USA Today bestselling author Millie Criswell
“Charming and irresistible. A tale to make you smile and pursue your own dreams.”
—USA Today bestselling author Patricia Potter
Noble Intentions
“Sexy, sassy fun!”
—Karen Hawkins
“If there is such a thing as a Screwball Regency, Katie MacAlister has penned it in this tale of Noble, Gillian, and their oh-so-bumpy path to love. Readers are in for a wonderful ride!”
—The Romance Reader
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, November
Copyright © Marthe Arends, 2005
All rights reserved
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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There are always many people who I feel deserve a public thank-you whenever I finish a book, but seldom am I as grateful as I am to four people who turned me into a die-hard pirate fan. For
that reason, I offer my appreciation and sincerest gratitude to Tobias Barlind (the coldest shark around), Vance Briceland (for telling me about YPP), Daniel James (who can resist a man with a cleaver?), and Brian Murphy (the best captain a girl could have). Yarr, maties!
And a quick explanation for those of you who may wonder about the source for the quotations at the beginning of each chapter: They are all from the Gilbert and Sullivan opera The Pirates of Penzance. Although Penzance itself wasn’t the source of inspiration for this book (see the note at the end of the book for those details), I found so many quotations that seemed to fit perfectly with the action of the story that I couldn’t resist using them.
Chapter 1
A pirate.
A very contemptible line of life,
with a premium at a high rate.
—Gilbert and Sullivan, The Pirates of Penzance, Act I
“You know what your problem is?”
I waited for the rumble from a distant clap of thunder to fade away into nothing before answering. “Yes. We can’t get the legislature to understand why their repeal of the roadless act is going to devastate this country’s wild forests to the point where they will never recover.”
Tara sighed. “No, that’s not it.”
“Ah, then it must be the blatant disregard of the Clean Water Act by the cement industry, and the subsequent poisoning of several hundred streams and the countless generations of salmon who spawn there.”
Another sigh followed, drawn out and martyred as only a sixteen-year-old could make it. “No, not that either.”
I frowned at the computer screen, giving Tara only part of my attention as I typed up a press release that would be sent out the following day. It sounded like a storm was coming, and I wanted to finish before I had to turn off the electronic equipment. “No? Hmm. Well, you must be talking about the fact that our state legislature took a step into the Dark Ages when it caved to the pesticide industry’s pressure by removing hazardous pesticides from the program to eliminate toxic chemicals from the environment.”
“No! I’m not talking about that! And you’re not even listening to me.”
Another rumble of thunder stopped conversation for the count of five. “You wouldn’t by any chance be referring to the fact that I have a daughter who doesn’t understand the concept of not disturbing her mother while she’s working?”
“N-O spells no. Besides, you’re always working.”
“Pays the bills, pays the mortgage, and pays for you to hang out at the mall rather than working at a local McDonald’s. Hand me that paper, honey. No, the ‘Indigenous Streams of the Pacific Northwest’ one. Are the stereo and TV off? It sounds like that storm is heading right for us.”
“Yes, and you didn’t answer my question,” the spawn of my loins answered after she passed me a bound collection of environmental position papers, hands on her hips, thick straight brown brow, so much like my own, furrowed as she glared at me.
“I did. Four times, in fact.”
“Mom!”
“Hmm?” I double-checked a couple of statistics in the fact sheet, adding them to the press release in hopes they would be quoted verbatim.
“I asked you a question.”
“And I answered it.” The silence that followed, pregnant and pointed, chafed at me enough to disrupt my train of thought. I took my hands off the keyboard and swiveled in my chair to face Tara. “All right. You have my undivided attention. For . . . er . . .” I glanced at the clock. “Forty-five seconds.”
The blue flash of lightning and a subsequent loud crack of thunder were perfectly timed with Tara’s “Mom!”
I heaved a martyred sigh that rivaled hers, fighting to keep the smile from my lips at her look of righteous indignation. She might have my eyebrows, but her flair for dramatics came straight from her actor father. “Very well. I’m prepared to be generous. You have two minutes. Use them as you will.”
“Your problem,” she said, following me into the kitchen as I refilled my jumbo coffee mug with Espresso Roast, “is that you don’t know how to play.”
I gave in to the urge for a little eye roll and made sure everything that safely could be was unplugged. Another blue-white flash illuminating our tiny backyard heralded the onslaught of the storm.
“I’m serious, Mom. Free Spirit says that people like you use the excuse of work to compensate for the things that are lacking in their lives.”
“Free Spirit?” I leaned my hip against the counter and sipped my coffee, watching my daughter as she stood in front of me. She was looking more and more like me, her thick strawberry blond hair just as unruly as my own, defying all attempts by hair spray, styling mousse, and industrial-strength hair gel to form it into something other than a wild tangle of curls. Her blue eyes were a shade darker than my own, but those straight brows that refused to arch no matter how many trips to the beauty salon she made were all mine.
“Free Spirit Blue. Hello, she’s just my counselor! The one you talked to last month?”
“Oh, right; the one who wants to start her own commune and thinks I should encourage you to express yourself in artistic media rather than apply yourself to your schoolwork. Rather an interesting attitude to find in a school counselor.”
“Everyone loves her,” Tara protested, her hands gesticulating at she talked. That was another trait she got from her emotional father; generations of phlegmatic Scandinavian ancestors who preferred to keep their emotions tightly reined did much to give me control over mine. “She’s all that, and she knows the coolest people. She got me an interview with PC Monroe. The PC Monroe—I’m going to meet him next week. Sarah promised she’d give me the front page of the school paper for the interview.”
“Ah. Good. Er . . . who’s the PC Monroe? Singer? Actor? One of those guys on the reality shows who eat insects for insane amounts of money?”
She gave me a look that wouldn’t have been out of place had I been a five-headed alien that popped suddenly out of a potato. “He’s only the hottest thing online in the whole world!”
“Internet boy toy?” I asked, sidling toward the door. Although writing press releases for the conservancy organization I worked for wasn’t part of my job description as a financial analyst, I had volunteered to do it, and it irked me to leave any task undone.
“Try millionaire software genius,” she answered, swiftly moving to block my retreat from the kitchen. “He lives here, right here in Merida. He’s only created an inexpensive virtual reality unit that will revolutionize the Internet world by making fantasy real, and bring the unbelievable to the grasp of everyone with a computer and an Internet connection.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Get that from a press release, did you?”
“Yeah.” She had the grace to look a little embarrassed but quickly covered it up with antagonism. “PC Monroe and his VR game are the hottest thing on the whole planet! He sent me a beta version of his new VR simulation. Everyone is talking about it. It’s due to be released in two months, and it’s going to totally blow every other online game out of the water. Don’t you pay attention to anything?”
“I’ve been busy trying to set up our lives.” By dint of a slight feint to the left, I managed to squeeze around her and out the door. She followed me down the hallway.
“You’re always busy; that’s my point!”
“Yes, I know; you think I need to play. I heard you the first time. Hold on a sec.” We paused to count between the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder. “Five miles. It’s getting closer. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get this press release done before the storm hits, then I think I’ll do a little research for Robert. He’s never as prepared as he should be for staff meetings.”
“Free Spirit says people who work all the time and don’t give their inner child time to play die of heart attacks before they’re forty.”
“Ah?” I asked, sitting down at the computer.
“You’re almost forty,” she pointed out.
&nbs
p; I shot her a narrow-eyed look. “I’m thirty-six, missy. That’s not even close to forty.”
The little rat smirked. “Four years, Mom. Four years, then ziiiiiiiip!” She made a gesture symbolic of imminent death. “Dead as road kill.”
The press release nagged at me, but behind Tara’s flip tone, I sensed real concern. I was well aware that I hadn’t been spending as much time with her as I wanted to, but starting a new life and a new job in a new town took a lot of work. “Point taken—you believe I need a few more leisure activities in my life.”
“Any leisure activities. You don’t do anything but work.”
I let that slide. “What would you suggest?
She took a deep breath. “Buckling Swashes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Buckling Swashes. It’s the online game PC Monroe created, the one he’s converting over to a VR world. I told you that he sent me a beta VR unit. It’s part of the next-generation release, and I got to see it months before it’ll be made public.”
I frowned, absently counting the time between lightning and thunder, a horrible suspicion coming to my mind. “You wouldn’t be referring to that RPH that you were so addicted to during the summer?”
“RPG, not RPH. It stands for role-playing game and technically it’s MMORPG—massive multiplayer online role-playing game.”
The way she avoided my eye said a lot. “I see. That would be the same online game that I forbade you to continue playing because you did nothing else but pretend you were a pirate for three solid months?”
Belligerent blue eyes suddenly met mine. “You didn’t forbid me to play. You just stopped paying for it.”