Puppy Love
- Thread starter sarkattack
- Start date
KAliasGirl
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love this pm me please
SpygirlAmy
Cadet
that was great!! i loved it!
thanks for the PM
update soon
thanks for the PM
update soon
gtwallichs
Cadet
Love it! Can I please get a PM???
love it ihave challenage for anyone who want to write this:
picture sydney gives birth to Isabelle but isabelle is kiddnapped a few months later and syd go on hunt to find her and does three years later and it is about them building a bond and Isabelle learning to trust her mom
give it a shot
anyone want to try let me know please
picture sydney gives birth to Isabelle but isabelle is kiddnapped a few months later and syd go on hunt to find her and does three years later and it is about them building a bond and Isabelle learning to trust her mom
give it a shot
anyone want to try let me know please
sarkattack
Cadet
Redwolf88 stop spamming in my thread.
Thanks
Thanks
aliasobsessed89
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love this - PM me please.
aliasfan212
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hey love this can you keep PMing me please!!
vartan-lova
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i love this! can i get a pm?
kittykatsmeow
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I'm loving it!!! Please PM when you update!
Thanks much!
Thanks much!
sparklingrainbow
Cadet
aww can you add me on your pm list? please... thanks!
sarkattack
Cadet
here's a new update. Don't forget to R & R. Next update this weekend. Thanks for reading and talk to you all very soon.
CJ
~Part 2~
Relaxing, she leaned over and rummaged in her purse for her small tape recorder. She reminded herself it really didn’t matter how movie star gorgeous this Michael Vaughn guy was. She didn’t need or want a man now, especially not after her less than perfect relationship with Danny and the trail of troubles he left behind.
The day that Danny left, she’d sewn her tattered heart back together as best she could, thrown out all of his stuff, sworn off men and promised herself to avoid anything resembling love. She intended to stick to that vow and concentrate on writing her story, digging herself out of debt and saving her house and her self-respect. No man was worth the headache or distraction, not even one with emerald eyes and a body to die for.
Through he would rather suffer the most painful torture possible than give an interview, Michael moved toward the beautiful brunette from the Tribune, still puzzled by her strange behavior. A few minutes ago she’d looked downright flustered. He shrugged irritability and passed it off as simple embarrassment for mistaking Dan for himself.
Of course, she could just be putting her antennae up to scope him out, like he’d seen loads of women do when they wanted to marry a millionaire.
Balancing a mocha cappuccino in one hand and a pate laden with a fresh apple turnover in the other, he navigated to the reporter. Hopefully this interview would be done soon and he could get back to work. He resented wasting time on this stuff. He’d only consented because Aromas needed the publicity. If it wasn’t for the coffee shop, he wouldn’t go anywhere near the press. He had his little girl, Gracie to think of now.
When he arrived at the couch, the reporter looked up at him, her beautiful brown eyes, reminded him of rich, dark, yummy coffee; a deadly combination, in deed.
“Thanks for waiting.” He set the cappuccino and pastry on the low coffee table in front of the couch, ignoring his sudden, strange urge to study those eyes and her flawless, creamy skin. Lowering himself into the wing chair behind him, he told himself to loosen up. He’d give a few stock answers and then send the reporter on her way.
“Okay. Let’s get started.” He told her.
“Do you make a habit of working behind the counter?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
He sensed the surprise behind the question. “Not usually, but we’re short on help today, and I pitch in where I’m needed. I started Aromas with one store and one employee, so I’ve had plenty of experience waiting on customers.”
She picked up a small tape recorder. “Do you mind if I tape this interview?”
His first instinct was to refuse; why make her job easier? But it wasn’t as if he had anything against this particular reporter. Besides, he reminded himself, Aromas would benefit from a spread in the Tribune.
“No, not at all.” He replied, striving to keep the impatience from his voice. “And help yourself to the cappuccino and apple turnover.”
She pulled her mouth into a tiny smile. “I love apple turnovers and cappuccino.” She picked the flaky pastry up and took a big bite. “Thank you, “she mumbled.
He smiled. Maybe this interview wouldn’t be so bad after all. Relaxing against the back of the chair, he drew his leg up and propped his ankle on the opposite knee, liking the sight of her unselfconsciously demolishing the turnover.
He knew he shouldn’t stare but he did, letting his gaze wander over her rose-tinted face. He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked. He wished he could run his fingers though the strands to find out.
Enjoying his exploration, he let his eyes roam lower, taking in her full lips painted in a subtle shade of pink. Drawing a deep breath, he moved his gaze to her long legs; they were as stunning as the rest of her.
Don’t go there, buddy. Don’t want what you don’t need. Getting hung up on a reporter would be the one, surefire way to expose little Gracie to the rabid media, which had burned him in the past.
She flicked on the tape recorder.” First, I’m gonna ask you some questions, like your age and what you like to do. Then I’ll let you talk for a while, all right?”
He nodded tersely.
She scotched over on the couch until she sat just a foot from him. Her delicate scent…vanilla…floated around him, and he fought the urge to sniff the air and drag in more of the wonderful, feminine smell through his nose.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Thirty-two.” He tried to make his voice sound like her perfume wasn’t wreaking havoc to his senses.
“And you have always lived in Portland?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Soooo…what are your interests?” She licked at the sugary coating on her lips.
He watched her tongue stroke her lip, and the heat in his body was stoked back to life.
“Uh, interests?”
She pursed her sugary lips, then picked up her cappuccino. “You know, hobbies, likes, dislikes. That kind of thing.”
Michael ruthlessly forced his eyes, and thoughts, away from her mouth and how much he wanted to take care of that sugar on her lips himself.
“Well, I guess typical guy stuff. I play hockey a few times a week , play pool, watch football and recently, my best friend, Eric and I just enrolled in a cooking class. He did it because he wanted to impress a girl he liked and I decided to tag along because well, I can’t cook.”
She stopped midsip and looked at him over the rim of the cup. “ Cooking classes?”
“Surprised?”
“Quite frankly I am, “she said, tucking some stray stands of hair behind her ear. “Most men would have said drink large quantity of beer and staying out late partying.”
“I guess I’m not like most men, then, am I?”
Her gaze flicked down and held on his wristwatch for a long, significant moment.
“Well, most men don’t have trust funds to live on, do they?” Her mouth spread into a tight, judgmental smile.
He clenched his hands. His instincts about this interview had proven dead-on. The press was bad news. They’d ridden his back his whole life, always groveling for some kind of story about his famous family. And then, before he’d threatened one reporter with publishing a false statement, damaging his family’s reputation a year ago, they’d tried to do a hatchet job when his half sister, Allison, had died.
The media had been too damn eager to exploit the circumstances of the famous Eleanor Marchand’s daughter’s death. His family kept being assaulted with reporters ever since Bill Vaughn married the famous actress soon after his beloved wife Amelia died in a tragic car accident when Vaughn was only 5 years old.
Not only had a slew of reporters hounded him for details of the motorcycle crash that had snuffed out Allison’s life, they’d jumped on him like a pack of wolves when he adopted Allison’s six-month-old baby daughter, Gracie. The press had wanted to splash her picture across the front page.
The familiar guilt for failing to save Allison jabbed at him, fueling his desire to cut this interview short. He knew he was overreacting, but this snotty reporter had managed to push his buttons, right off the bat. Ms. Bristow might be really nice to look at but she was obviously nothing but a self-serving reporter out to dig out dirt.
He rose, staring her down. “Trust funds? How do you know what the hell I live on?”
She blinked and readjusted her sunglasses on top of her head. “Um, well…” She hesitated, clearly unprepared for his sudden turnabout. Luckily he had been prepared for her ambush.
Michael didn’t wait for her to say more. “Your interview’s over, sweetheart.” He leaned down and deliberately placed his hands on the coffee table and bent in close. Her scent washed over him again, but his anger doused it effect.
“For your information, I’ve worked damned hard to get to where I am today and I don’t need you turning your pert little nose up at my lifestyle. “Go find someone else to insult.” He turned to walk away.
“Mr. Vaughn?”
Something in her soft tone made him stop, his hands still fisted at his sides. He didn’t turn around.
“I chose you for this article because you have the kind of lifestyle our readers want to read about. Unfortunately, I guess the money is part of your life. It’s my job to write the story my editor wants.”
Unmoved, he swiveled back to face her. She might not have been technically out of line, but she’d implied that he was a lazy idiot who had nothing better to do than piddle away his inheritance. She’d stuck right at the heart of one of his biggest pet peeves: people who assumed he’d ridden his father’s coattails to instant wealth. Her rude assumptions were so far from the truth that they would be laughable if they didn’t make him so angry. He hadn’t used one penny of the Vaughn’s millions to built his business, which he was damn proud of.
Yeah, he would follow his instincts on this one. To hell with her story. He was out of here.
“Too bad. “He ignored her pretty brown eyes widened in stunned surprise. “You can go back to your editor and tell him this rich guy changed his mind. The interview is off.”
He stalked off and let her sitting there on the couch with her mouth hanging open and her tape recorder still running.
The guy had just told her to take a hike, yet she could still feel the pulse of her attraction sizzling through her body like an electric current. Who would have guessed a man could turn her on while telling her off?
But that didn’t matter. Her desperation was what counted here. She’d blown it big time. Nibbling a nail, Sydney acknowledged she’d been thrown off whack ever since she saw Michael standing behind the counter. Had her neglected libido sent her good judgment flying out the window? That had to be the problem. What else could have caused her to alienate part of her biggest story opportunity in months, jeopardizing her only chance to pay off her debts and save her house in one fell swoop?
Shaking her head, she flicked her tape recorder off, fighting away panic. What now? She thought as she made her quick exit from the coffee shop and started walking around to clear her mind.
How was she going to dig herself out of this mess? She didn’t have a clue, but she wasn’t about to roll over and let her fate knock her to her knees again. Not after the sheer hell Danny had put her through. One way or another she’d get her interview and the bonus, and she’d satisfy her reporter’s curiosity and discover exactly what kind of man Michael Vaughn was…without drooling.
She turned the corner, again noticing the beautiful day, complete with clear blue sky, warm, calming breeze and green trees rustling in the light wind. It was too lovely of a day for her life to fall apart. Yes, she would turn Michael Vaughn around. She had to.
Failure simply wasn’t an option.
TBC
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CJ
~Part 2~
Relaxing, she leaned over and rummaged in her purse for her small tape recorder. She reminded herself it really didn’t matter how movie star gorgeous this Michael Vaughn guy was. She didn’t need or want a man now, especially not after her less than perfect relationship with Danny and the trail of troubles he left behind.
The day that Danny left, she’d sewn her tattered heart back together as best she could, thrown out all of his stuff, sworn off men and promised herself to avoid anything resembling love. She intended to stick to that vow and concentrate on writing her story, digging herself out of debt and saving her house and her self-respect. No man was worth the headache or distraction, not even one with emerald eyes and a body to die for.
Through he would rather suffer the most painful torture possible than give an interview, Michael moved toward the beautiful brunette from the Tribune, still puzzled by her strange behavior. A few minutes ago she’d looked downright flustered. He shrugged irritability and passed it off as simple embarrassment for mistaking Dan for himself.
Of course, she could just be putting her antennae up to scope him out, like he’d seen loads of women do when they wanted to marry a millionaire.
Balancing a mocha cappuccino in one hand and a pate laden with a fresh apple turnover in the other, he navigated to the reporter. Hopefully this interview would be done soon and he could get back to work. He resented wasting time on this stuff. He’d only consented because Aromas needed the publicity. If it wasn’t for the coffee shop, he wouldn’t go anywhere near the press. He had his little girl, Gracie to think of now.
When he arrived at the couch, the reporter looked up at him, her beautiful brown eyes, reminded him of rich, dark, yummy coffee; a deadly combination, in deed.
“Thanks for waiting.” He set the cappuccino and pastry on the low coffee table in front of the couch, ignoring his sudden, strange urge to study those eyes and her flawless, creamy skin. Lowering himself into the wing chair behind him, he told himself to loosen up. He’d give a few stock answers and then send the reporter on her way.
“Okay. Let’s get started.” He told her.
“Do you make a habit of working behind the counter?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
He sensed the surprise behind the question. “Not usually, but we’re short on help today, and I pitch in where I’m needed. I started Aromas with one store and one employee, so I’ve had plenty of experience waiting on customers.”
She picked up a small tape recorder. “Do you mind if I tape this interview?”
His first instinct was to refuse; why make her job easier? But it wasn’t as if he had anything against this particular reporter. Besides, he reminded himself, Aromas would benefit from a spread in the Tribune.
“No, not at all.” He replied, striving to keep the impatience from his voice. “And help yourself to the cappuccino and apple turnover.”
She pulled her mouth into a tiny smile. “I love apple turnovers and cappuccino.” She picked the flaky pastry up and took a big bite. “Thank you, “she mumbled.
He smiled. Maybe this interview wouldn’t be so bad after all. Relaxing against the back of the chair, he drew his leg up and propped his ankle on the opposite knee, liking the sight of her unselfconsciously demolishing the turnover.
He knew he shouldn’t stare but he did, letting his gaze wander over her rose-tinted face. He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked. He wished he could run his fingers though the strands to find out.
Enjoying his exploration, he let his eyes roam lower, taking in her full lips painted in a subtle shade of pink. Drawing a deep breath, he moved his gaze to her long legs; they were as stunning as the rest of her.
Don’t go there, buddy. Don’t want what you don’t need. Getting hung up on a reporter would be the one, surefire way to expose little Gracie to the rabid media, which had burned him in the past.
She flicked on the tape recorder.” First, I’m gonna ask you some questions, like your age and what you like to do. Then I’ll let you talk for a while, all right?”
He nodded tersely.
She scotched over on the couch until she sat just a foot from him. Her delicate scent…vanilla…floated around him, and he fought the urge to sniff the air and drag in more of the wonderful, feminine smell through his nose.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Thirty-two.” He tried to make his voice sound like her perfume wasn’t wreaking havoc to his senses.
“And you have always lived in Portland?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Soooo…what are your interests?” She licked at the sugary coating on her lips.
He watched her tongue stroke her lip, and the heat in his body was stoked back to life.
“Uh, interests?”
She pursed her sugary lips, then picked up her cappuccino. “You know, hobbies, likes, dislikes. That kind of thing.”
Michael ruthlessly forced his eyes, and thoughts, away from her mouth and how much he wanted to take care of that sugar on her lips himself.
“Well, I guess typical guy stuff. I play hockey a few times a week , play pool, watch football and recently, my best friend, Eric and I just enrolled in a cooking class. He did it because he wanted to impress a girl he liked and I decided to tag along because well, I can’t cook.”
She stopped midsip and looked at him over the rim of the cup. “ Cooking classes?”
“Surprised?”
“Quite frankly I am, “she said, tucking some stray stands of hair behind her ear. “Most men would have said drink large quantity of beer and staying out late partying.”
“I guess I’m not like most men, then, am I?”
Her gaze flicked down and held on his wristwatch for a long, significant moment.
“Well, most men don’t have trust funds to live on, do they?” Her mouth spread into a tight, judgmental smile.
He clenched his hands. His instincts about this interview had proven dead-on. The press was bad news. They’d ridden his back his whole life, always groveling for some kind of story about his famous family. And then, before he’d threatened one reporter with publishing a false statement, damaging his family’s reputation a year ago, they’d tried to do a hatchet job when his half sister, Allison, had died.
The media had been too damn eager to exploit the circumstances of the famous Eleanor Marchand’s daughter’s death. His family kept being assaulted with reporters ever since Bill Vaughn married the famous actress soon after his beloved wife Amelia died in a tragic car accident when Vaughn was only 5 years old.
Not only had a slew of reporters hounded him for details of the motorcycle crash that had snuffed out Allison’s life, they’d jumped on him like a pack of wolves when he adopted Allison’s six-month-old baby daughter, Gracie. The press had wanted to splash her picture across the front page.
The familiar guilt for failing to save Allison jabbed at him, fueling his desire to cut this interview short. He knew he was overreacting, but this snotty reporter had managed to push his buttons, right off the bat. Ms. Bristow might be really nice to look at but she was obviously nothing but a self-serving reporter out to dig out dirt.
He rose, staring her down. “Trust funds? How do you know what the hell I live on?”
She blinked and readjusted her sunglasses on top of her head. “Um, well…” She hesitated, clearly unprepared for his sudden turnabout. Luckily he had been prepared for her ambush.
Michael didn’t wait for her to say more. “Your interview’s over, sweetheart.” He leaned down and deliberately placed his hands on the coffee table and bent in close. Her scent washed over him again, but his anger doused it effect.
“For your information, I’ve worked damned hard to get to where I am today and I don’t need you turning your pert little nose up at my lifestyle. “Go find someone else to insult.” He turned to walk away.
“Mr. Vaughn?”
Something in her soft tone made him stop, his hands still fisted at his sides. He didn’t turn around.
“I chose you for this article because you have the kind of lifestyle our readers want to read about. Unfortunately, I guess the money is part of your life. It’s my job to write the story my editor wants.”
Unmoved, he swiveled back to face her. She might not have been technically out of line, but she’d implied that he was a lazy idiot who had nothing better to do than piddle away his inheritance. She’d stuck right at the heart of one of his biggest pet peeves: people who assumed he’d ridden his father’s coattails to instant wealth. Her rude assumptions were so far from the truth that they would be laughable if they didn’t make him so angry. He hadn’t used one penny of the Vaughn’s millions to built his business, which he was damn proud of.
Yeah, he would follow his instincts on this one. To hell with her story. He was out of here.
“Too bad. “He ignored her pretty brown eyes widened in stunned surprise. “You can go back to your editor and tell him this rich guy changed his mind. The interview is off.”
He stalked off and let her sitting there on the couch with her mouth hanging open and her tape recorder still running.
The guy had just told her to take a hike, yet she could still feel the pulse of her attraction sizzling through her body like an electric current. Who would have guessed a man could turn her on while telling her off?
But that didn’t matter. Her desperation was what counted here. She’d blown it big time. Nibbling a nail, Sydney acknowledged she’d been thrown off whack ever since she saw Michael standing behind the counter. Had her neglected libido sent her good judgment flying out the window? That had to be the problem. What else could have caused her to alienate part of her biggest story opportunity in months, jeopardizing her only chance to pay off her debts and save her house in one fell swoop?
Shaking her head, she flicked her tape recorder off, fighting away panic. What now? She thought as she made her quick exit from the coffee shop and started walking around to clear her mind.
How was she going to dig herself out of this mess? She didn’t have a clue, but she wasn’t about to roll over and let her fate knock her to her knees again. Not after the sheer hell Danny had put her through. One way or another she’d get her interview and the bonus, and she’d satisfy her reporter’s curiosity and discover exactly what kind of man Michael Vaughn was…without drooling.
She turned the corner, again noticing the beautiful day, complete with clear blue sky, warm, calming breeze and green trees rustling in the light wind. It was too lovely of a day for her life to fall apart. Yes, she would turn Michael Vaughn around. She had to.
Failure simply wasn’t an option.
TBC
Pm list:
XMountaineer02300844X
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Cupcake55
Angel
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SpygirlAmy
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derevkointraining
Cadet
this was great!! i can't wait to see how sydney pulls off keeping her job and winning michael over. nice update! thanks for the PM
KAliasGirl
Cadet
great chapter
sydney_alias_vaughn
Cadet
interesting, great chapter
thanx for the pm
can't wait for more
thanx for the pm
can't wait for more
vaughnshoney
Cadet
Oooh loved it. Can't wait to see how Syd goes about changing Vaughn's mind.
Great work
Thanks for the PM
Great work
Thanks for the PM
gtwallichs
Cadet
Great update!