Stolen Nights (The Stolen Series Book 1)

  RENEE HARLESS

  Elle’s life seems like one joke after the next.

  Blindsided by a cheating husband? Check.

  Ex-friend knocked up by said husband? Check.

  Moving herself and two kids into a home willed to her by her estranged father? Check.

  Disease infested fence separating her home from her neighbor’s? Check.

  That’s the first thing to go. If only the gorgeous neighbor didn’t rile her up every chance he gets and now with the fence gone she suddenly finds herself facing a new joke – that stupid heart of hers racing whenever he’s close.

  But one stolen kiss leads to a number of stolen nights leaving Elle with the choice of ending the fling before she gets hurt or checking another box off her “jokes on me” list – heartbreak.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2018 Renee Harless

  This work is one of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. All trademarked items included in this novel have been recognized as so by the author. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  All rights reserved

  Amazon Edition

  Cover photo by Wander Aguiar

  Models: Forest Tyler & Evan

  Cover design by Porcelain Paper Designs

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One - Elle

  Chapter Two – Jackson

  Chapter Three – Elle

  Chapter Four – Jackson

  Chapter Five – Elle

  Chapter Six – Jackson

  Chapter Seven – Elle

  Chapter Eight – Jackson

  Chapter Nine – Elle

  Chapter Ten – Jackson

  Chapter Eleven – Elle

  Chapter Twelve – Jackson

  Chapter Thirteen – Elle

  Epilogue – Elle

  More Books by Renee Harless

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  The pounding increases behind my eyes as I watch my soon to be ex-husband smile wickedly across from me. We’ve been going through these proceedings for about six weeks, a constant back and forth that has increased my number of migraines exponentially. We make it one step forward and then two steps back.

  My ex, Dan, is contesting everything. Nothing is making him happy.

  Silently inside the maelstrom of my mind I keep asking, “What does he want?”

  But, I know what he wants. What his endgame is. He wants everything of mine but without me. He wants an upgrade. An upgrade that comes in the form of my best friend.

  She’s five years younger than us at the ripe old age of twenty-five. I met her at the gym I frequented when she became a personal trainer. She and I built a great friendship and spent many evenings sitting at my home drinking wine and watching reality television. I had no idea that I wasn’t the only one she was giving special attention to. Apparently riding my husband’s cock was part of her personal training skills as well.

  I just couldn’t have a normal divorce. Nope. I had to have a whammy of a love tryst thrown in my path as well and it wasn’t until I was handed the divorce papers that I learned my friend was a total of eight weeks pregnant with my husband’s baby.

  I rub my temples as another stack of papers is tossed in front of me which my lawyer angrily grasps.

  We’ve been in this particular meeting for six hours already. Six fucking hours of my life gone. Poof! My ex is already getting the 3500-square foot house, which I put the down payment on, his vehicle, which I cosigned, and our dog. He didn’t even put up a fight for our kids, which really set me off after our first meeting. He plans on having a new perfect family with Sky once she settles into my old home.

  Right now he’s fighting for the restored 1964 Mustang that was passed down to me by my grandfather. He knows that it cost a pretty penny and he has the bargaining chip to get what he wants. Every time I shoot him down, he threatens to take the kids.

  Dan is an investment banker with a steady job. He also has a gambling problem that I am certain Sky has yet to discover. He knows that he can pull his weight around, which is why we’re using a mediator instead of a judge. My kids would be taken from me faster than Superman stopping a bullet if I used a judge.

  Me? I’m just a baker that gets jobs based on online orders and word of mouth. It’s not steady or a typical nine to five job, but I do well for myself, and I’m lucky that I have a trust left from my mother’s parents to fall back on in an emergency. A trust that includes the car my ex is trying to get his grubby hands on.

  Thankfully for me, I have one of the best divorce lawyers working on my team. She also happens to be my college roommate and about the only good thing working in my favor at the moment.

  From her poised position at the head of the table Sara, my lawyer, boasts, “You can’t ask for a vehicle that is part of my client’s trust left by a family member. Nor can you continue to threaten my client by appealing to withdraw your signing over of the children. That paperwork has already been filed and approved by the judge. At this point, Mr. Sanderson, I suggest that you and your girlfriend take what has been graciously gifted to you and finalize this divorce. My client has given you practically everything you have requested and has asked for nothing in return but to get these proceedings over with. You continue to dawdle with the paperwork, and frankly, it’s starting to irritate me. If you don’t finalize these today, then I am going to have my client begin to request her own share of your property.”

  Dan shifts in his chair while his own lawyer tugs at the tie around his neck. He knows if I begin to fight, the house will be the first hurdle because it was essentially my office and I claimed the addition as such on our taxes. I’m still thankful that Sara had the expertise to take care of the child custody situation first when the proceedings began.

  “Fine,” Dan huffs as he leans over the table, Sky’s poised hand resting on his forearm. The forearms I used to admire when he would help me roll out dough when we first got married. I loved the way they would flex as he pushed the rolling pin outward. Now as I stare at them, I want to throw up in my mouth a little.

  Sara nudges my shoulder as she hands me a stack of papers to sign. As I finish each one, she places them in a manila folder then hands the pile to the mediator to make copies.

  “These will be filed today, and you’ll receive your copies in the mail in the next week or so. We will send your copies to your lawyer, Mrs. Sanderson,” the mediator explains as he stands from the table. The look on his face shows how grateful he is that the meeting has adjourned.

  I hang back in the room with Sara as Dan and Sky file out behind his lawyer without a backward glance. He got everything he wanted and more. The big house, the expensive car, the young pregnant wife – all of the things he once wanted with me.

  The truth doesn’t hurt as much as the intensifying burn knowing that at the age of thirty, I’m now divorced with two young children to take care of.

  Turning toward Sara, I wince at the forceful gaze in her eyes instead of sympathy.


  Her attitude toward me is like a Queen addressing her subjects. Strong, powerful, confident. “We need to discuss two other issues at hand now that the divorce is finalized.”

  A headache that was already forming turns itself into full blast at her words. We had been in talks about my biological father’s home for the last couple of weeks, since his death. I didn’t know him well, but he left me his home in his will, and it was his only possession. It is the perfect solution for me since I now have nowhere to live and the kids and I are tired of staying in an extended-stay hotel. We want a home.

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

  “Bad?” I ask hesitantly, because really, how much worse can my day get?

  “So, while I’ve been working with a real estate lawyer to get the house switched to your name, we’ve come across an issue with the property.”

  The fear surges up inside me and I have to force myself to push it down. I blink at Sara in bewilderment and then ask, “What kind of issue?”

  “There is a lien on the house due to a home equity loan used to pay off debt. It had been taken out with a bank outside of our area, that’s why it wasn’t listed on the paperwork. Being that the house was willed to you, it looks like you now have the burden of the lien unless you want the bank to take it over. And unfortunately, I think they may fight you on it. It’s a good piece of property in a growing neighborhood, and I think you may be able to work with the amount.”

  “How much?”

  She squirms in her seat as she flips through some paperwork. “It’s, uh, significant. Almost as much as the house is worth.”

  “What am I going to do, Sara? I just gave Dan almost everything I have,” I groan as stars dance behind my eyes. My clothes suddenly feel too tight, too constrictive. I need air.

  She reaches out and grasps my hand on the table; her friendly hold is my lifeline.

  “You’re going to use some of the trust that you have left to pay it off. That will still leave you some money in the bank for a rainy day. You’re going to try to sell the car if you want to put even more in your pocket, but I don’t think that’s necessary. And you’re going to continue baking to your heart’s content because you’re amazing at what you do and your business is starting to take off.”

  Her words fuel me, and I feel the strength in each sentence. She’s right. I’m not through. I’m not six feet in the ground yet. I’ve made it this far and I can do the rest on my own.

  I smile over at her in thanks for the confidence she has in me and then she asks if I want to hear the good news.

  “I’ll take anything right about now.”

  “Well, I just need your signature here,” she says, shuffling a piece a paper over to me. “Then I can file this for you with the social security administration. You will then have the pleasure of returning your last name to Knight.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve had in weeks.”

  Chapter One - Elle

  The brakes on the faded white truck ahead of me begin to flash.

  “This is it,” I sigh, following the U-Haul trailer to the small brick ranch in the cookie-cutter neighborhood. Every house looks exactly the same as the next; the only distinguishable feature seems to be the paint on the door and shutters. So far the only thing that gives me a sense of peace is the older neighbors smiling and waving in my direction. Whatever issues my father had didn’t seem to be with the neighborhood.

  I haven’t seen what my new place looks like. Sara never had the chance to show me pictures of the house or property and all I could find were browser searches on the internet. But even those weren’t that good. I know it’s shaped exactly like the others; the layout a mirror image of the homes on either side, and it has a decent sized backyard. Half an acre if my memory serves me right. Just big enough for the kids to play and for me to tend. Landscaping has never been my forte. Dan always paid for someone to come out and take care of the lawn for us, but the lawn now belongs to my ex-husband and my pregnant ex-best friend.

  Finally the trailer in front of me brakes, and I pull into the single driveway that separates my property from my new neighbor behind a black Audi coupe. As I sit in my BMW SUV, one of the few consolations I requested in the divorce since I paid for it myself, I let the engine idle as I take everything in.

  The house next door has a lawn greener than any I’ve ever seen before and a beautiful array of flowers in multiple colors lining the side of the driveway and the walkway on both sides. The shutters are a crisp blue, only a shade darker than the noon sky above. From the corner of my eye, I notice a cute copper birdhouse on a stand on the opposite end of the yard. Unfortunately, a nasty fence guards my view of seeing into the backyard.

  With a deep breath I turn my attention to the house on my left, my humble abode. I shudder at the monstrosity before me. Overgrown grass and weeds dance across what would be a front yard and mask the walkway to the front door. The black shutters hang cockeyed from their hinges, grasping as tightly as they can, and some of the louvers are broken within the panels. One end of the gutters projects away from the roof making the home look condemned.

  God, I hope it’s not condemned.

  A laugh trickles up from my chest, and I shake my head as I stifle a giggle. Of course this is the home my father would have left me. A familial kin I had only met twice in my life since he and my mother never married and parted on unhappy terms. I still wasn’t quite sure why he left me this house to begin with, which seems to mimic my life at the moment. Rough. Jagged. Unkempt. I can only hope that what’s inside reflects something warmer than the coldness I’m currently feeling.

  I ponder my new life as I watch Sara in my side mirror as she jumps out from the U-Haul in a graceful dismount.

  Maybe I can make the most of this. Maybe it won’t be that bad. I have my health and my kids. That’s what matters.

  But my reality comes flying at me in the form of a pink sippy cup full of juice that slams into the side of my head, courtesy of my three-year-old.

  Yep, that’s the wakeup call I needed. My life is certainly no better than this dilapidated house outside my window.

  I turn around in my seat and hand the sippy cup back to Kennedy. “Here, sweetie. Let’s not throw things at Mommy.”

  “Sorry, Mommy,” she says in return in a cute little voice that I can’t ever stay mad at.

  “Whelp, we’re here, guys.”

  As he unstraps himself from his booster seat, my son Noah asks, “Where are we?” and pulls himself across the front seat to look out the big window.

  “Remember how I told you and Kennedy that we were going to have a new home?” He nods as his face grimaces at the home.

  “Well, this is it. This is our new home.”

  “I like the other home better. This one is ugly.”

  My heart breaks knowing that I’m taking the kids away from everything they’ve ever known. The pool that used to be in the backyard. The giant playground where they played with all the neighborhood kids. Right now all that I can offer them is a roof over their heads and some sweet treats.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I say, running my hand through his soft brown hair and remembering the time when he got a hold of the scissors and took a chunk out. “But just think of the amazing things we can do to it. It’s our own blank canvas, just like the ones you fingerpaint on. We can make it look however we want.”

  His eyes light up as he turns to look at me in excitement.

  “We can do whatever we want?”

  “Sure, within reason, of course.”

  “What if I want a dragon on my wall? Can I have a dragon?”

  Drawing was never my strong point in school, but if Noah wants a dragon and that will make him feel at home, then by God I will give the kid a dragon.

  “Absolutely. You can have a whole wall of dragons if that is what you want.”

  “Yes!” he shouts as he fist pumps the air, his tiny body filling the sm
all space between the two front seats.

  “And a playground and a pool?” he asks through a wide grin as his excitement rushes through his body.

  “Well, we’ll have to see about that. I’m not sure what the backyard looks like.”

  Summer is in full swing, so I had better look at getting something for the kids to occupy themselves with until I can get Noah into kindergarten.

  I jolt in my seat as a knock sounds on my window, and Noah cackles loudly at my expression. I turn to look at Sara who shakes her head with a downturned face.

  Stepping out of the car I say, “Hey,” and then walk around the front to let Kennedy out of her seat.

  “I didn’t know it looked like this. The bank is the one that sent me the pictures. I would have had it cleaned up before I told you all to move in.”

  I take in the home one more time and then close my eyes. A deep breath fills my lungs, the scent of magnolia trees, flowers, and freshly cut grass swirling through my nostrils, and for a moment I feel resolute. I think that I can make this work. I can make this better. I can see its potential.

  Opening my eyes, I look over at Sara dressed in a pair of pressed khaki shorts and a plain T-shirt as she nibbles on her lower lip. Even in worry, she is one of the most naturally beautiful women I’ve ever seen with her light blonde hair and porcelain skin.

  “Sara, stop worrying. It will be okay. All I need is a lawnmower and a ladder.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted this to be better for you.”

  “I have a roof over my head in a good neighborhood. It could have been worse. Now, hand me the keys and let’s go check out the inside.”

  At first, I am afraid I have spoken too soon and that the inside is going to be a nightmare, but as I turn the key in the lock and twist the knob, I’m surprised at the space before me – in a good way.

  A gasp escapes my lips as I let Kennedy slide from my arms and down my body to the solid hardwood floors. “Wow.”

  “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about anything in here,” Sara adds, but my gaze is solely trained on the oversized kitchen across the way with an imposing island separating it from the living space.