The Traveling Series
“The word L♥ve
burned on his lips…”
Three best-selling
stories of CARNIVAL life
The Traveling Man *
The Traveling Woman * Roustabout
In one boxed set for
the first time
THE TRAVELING MAN
I was ordinary. Nice.
He was extraordinary.
And he wasn’t always nice.
Moody and difficult,
brilliant and beautiful, Kes scared me and he protected me. He could be
incredibly hurtful and incredibly thoughtful. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect
for me. He challenged me, he took me out of my safe little box and showed me
the world could be magnificent. He was everything I wasn’t.
Aimee Anderson is ten
when the traveling carnival first comes to her nice little town. She doesn’t
expect her world to change so completely. But meeting Kestrel Donohue puts her
life on a different path.
Even though she only
sees him for the two weeks of the year when he passes through her home town,
his friendship is the most important of her life. As a child’s friendship grows
to adult love, the choices become harder, and both Kes and Aimee realize that
two weeks a year will never be enough…
♥
♥
♥
♥
THE TRAVELING WOMAN
How many times do you
gamble on love? When love has knocked you down, should you give it another
chance? When does optimism become stupidity?
And what happens when
the man you’re in love with is never still, always moving, always traveling? Do
you say goodbye, or do you leave behind everything that you’ve worked for,
everything that you’ve ever known? Can a traveling carnival be my home?
Oh. You thought I had
the answers. No, sorry. No answers, just a lot of questions—and a heart that
wants to rule my head.
Can one person be my
home?
♥
♥
♥
♥
ROUSTABOUT
I’ve been thinking a
lot about family. It’s not where you come from that matters, the people you
were born to. That’s just life’s lottery. No, your real family are the people
who travel your road, the family you choose for yourself. My brothers don’t share
my blood, but they share my hopes and dreams, understand my fears, know what
makes me tick.
They know I have
rules, they just don’t know why. And I’m happy to keep it that way.
I love women. Love
‘em. The more the better. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, they can have freakin’
purple stripes—I don’t care. As long as they know about the rules, I’m not
hurting anyone.
The Rules
1. Never give a woman my
number. That’s smart.
2. Never sleep with them
more than once. Why only eat the red M&Ms when you could have all the
other colors, too?
3. Always leave her
satisfied. That’s just polite.
4. Always leave never
look back. That’s safe.
* * * * *
Twelve years ago
Tucker McCoy walked away from the hell that was his family with not much more
than the shirt on his back. No regrets. Never once looking back.
Living his life as a
roustabout turned stunt rider with a traveling carnival keeps a smile on his
face. His new family are the people he’s chosen to be in his life, the people
who travel his road. Kes, Zach and Zef don’t share his blood, but they share
his hopes and dreams. Understand his fears and know what makes him tick.
They’re his brothers, his real family.
If you keep moving,
no one can catch you—it’s a simple rule. So when Tucker crosses paths with Tera
Hawkins, he knows he should move on. There’s no woman that’s ever been worth
breaking his rules for. Besides, she’s off limits, untouchable. He knows
stronger men would walk away, but dammit, he’s always been weak.
All he can offer her
is a night she’ll never forget, but will that one taste be enough?
I breathed in the
scent of frying onions and hotdogs, the sweet air around the cotton candy
stall, watching the excited faces of children and the restrained excitement of
adults as they moved down the midway. The scents and sounds took me back to a
magical part of my childhood. I’ve missed this, I thought. The carnival
had been such an important part of my life, and I’d cut it off ruthlessly—even
if it was to protect my heart from further damage.
My nephew tugged on
my hand, almost overwhelmed with the choices surrounding him.
First stop was the
Monkey Maze which Dylan adored and went a long way to running off some of his
nonstop energy. Then we headed down the midway, playing all the dumb games and
trying to win stuffed elephants and toys that no one in their right mind would
ever want. But that was the point, wasn’t it? The fair wasn’t about being
sensible, it was about having as much fun as was legal.
I had a little pang
when we went on the Ferris wheel, but it was so different being there with
Dylan that I didn’t really mind.
I couldn’t help
wondering if the whole thing hadn’t helped me grow up a little. After all, it
had been eight years. I was nearly 25—definitely time to get over it. Over Kes.
He-who-must-not-be named. But breaking up with my last boyfriend had left me
feeling surprisingly emotional—and add that to being back in Minnesota.
In the afternoon,
Dylan decided he wanted to go see the show playing at the back end of the fair.
There was some motorcycle stunt rider that he wanted to see.
I wasn’t very keen.
I’d seen things like that on TV—those guys were nuts.
We could hear the
roar of engines set against the backdrop of some heavy rock music, presumably
to ramp up the drama. My sister winced at the volume and I raised my eyebrows.
With resigned shrugs,
we paid our 15 bucks each and went inside.
We’d missed the first
few minutes and had to squeeze into the middle of a row of seats, much to the
annoyance of the other patrons. I didn’t think we’d missed much because all I
could see through a cloud of dust and fumes, was some guy in red and black
leathers, using his poor motorcycle to screech around, leaving a pattern of
tight circles in the dirt. Dylan told me these were called ‘donuts’. Good to
know.
Those were followed
by a display of wheelies: along the ground, up ramps and onto seesaws. I liked
the innovation of a digital display on a large wall-mounted screen that showed
the rider’s hair-raising point of view. If I squinted, I could see the camera
mounted on his helmet.
Then he picked some
poor woman from the audience who practically threw herself at him, and he
practiced screeching around her, and skidding to a halt inches from her open
legs. Ugh. She had her eyes closed the whole time, not that I blamed her for
that, and I think half the audience were hoping that he’d run her over, but he
didn’t.
He followed that with
some wheelies standing on the seat, first on the back wheel and then on the
front wheel, which was pretty cool, even doing it with no hands, which made me
wonder how he controlled the bike.
So far it was
technically stunning, but not that exciting. Apparently things were only just
getting started. Next up were the jumps, and that had me gripping my seat. Two
ramps, about sixty feet apart were set up. He raced up one, flying through the
air. I gasped as his feet left the footrests and he seemed to be doing a
handstand on the handlebars. I was sure I was going to see a horrible crash,
and watched through my fingers as he landed.
Dylan was whooping
and cheering, but Jennifer looked a little queasy.
“I want to do that,
Mommy!” shouted Dylan.
Jennifer threw me a
horrified look, and I shrugged as if to say, You wanted to come here.
But then the stunt
guy topped that by doing a full somersault in the air. I squeaked with nerves as
he seemed to mis-time his landing, but I guess that was all part of the act.
Jennifer tugged my
elbow. “Bathroom break,” she mouthed.
Yeah, right. No
coincidence on the timing, although, to be fair, she did look a little green.
Then two more riders
entered the arena and they all jumped the ramp one after another, the guy in
red and black freakin’ laying on his bike, hands in the air.
Insane. They were all
insane.
And I thought that before two
of the riders screamed up opposite ramps, seeming sure to hit each other
midair, but missing by mere inches.
I’d never seen
anything like it and was relieved when it was over.
Dylan was so excited
he sounded as if he’d been sniffing helium. His squeaky high-pitched yells
broke through my trance.
“Aunty Aimee, they’re
signing programs! Can we go, can we?” And he waved the program in my face that
we’d been given along with our tickets.
“Sure thing, buddy.”
I was happy to do
anything now it was all over.
We made our way down
to the arena where the three guys were chatting to the crowds. Unsurprisingly,
the most popular was the guy in red and black leather.
Apparently, he was
some sort of world record holder, jumping his bike more than 180 feet by Sydney
Harbor Bridge, Australia, or so the program said. I couldn’t say I’d ever heard
of Hawkins’ Daredevils.
He had his back to us
and I could hear his deep laugh as a bunch of kids asked him questions. He was
really patient with them, which I appreciated, and seemed genuinely interested
as he chatted with them.
Finally, he turned to
us, and my breath rushed out of my lungs. I was staring up into silver-gray
eyes that still haunted my dreams.
“Kes!”
He looked equally
shocked, but recovered so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“Yeah?”
“It … it’s Aimee …
Aimee Andersen.”
He stared at me, his
expression giving away nothing.
“Yeah, I remember
you,” he said at last, his voice grudging.
He was taller than I
remembered, perhaps by as much as three or four inches, and much broader. Under
his t-shirt his chest was well defined, and his biceps popped as he moved his
arms. His hair was a shade darker than the pictures in my memory, and his face
was narrower—the roundness of childhood long gone.
The dark scruff on
his chin was new. My Kes hadn’t needed to shave.
I finally met his
eyes. Those were the same. Still silvery-gray with the curious dark blue ring
around the iris. And now they were staring at me without a hint of warmth.
I licked my lips and
watched his eyes drop almost reflexively before he looked up again angrily.
“What are you doing
here, Aimee?”
For as long as I can
remember, I wanted to write. Perhaps it was growing up in a village well known
for its mystery and folklore, which sparked my imagination as a child.
I enjoy writing in
several different genres, and I've just published my first romcom, 'Dazzled'.
All my books have a
little me in them, and I'm inspired by the personal stories of those around me.
It's often from a simple discussion overheard in the train ('Exposure'), in a
café, or in the street, where ideas for characters or scenes come to me.
I fell in love with
both Sam ('The New Samurai') and the eponymous Sebastian in 'The Education of
Sebastian' and the sequel 'The Education of Caroline', and missed them
desperately once I'd finished their stories. I love writing dialogue and always
try to include touches of humour in the most poignant stories.
Whether you like
adult romance novels, new or young adult writing, thrillers, or fantasy, I hope
you'll enjoy the journey through my stories.
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