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    Aching for Home
    Aching for Home
    Aching for Home
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    Aching for Home

    By A.C. Nixon

    5/5

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    About this ebook

    Introverted flight attendant Veronica Mills had no idea her life would change on a sunny San Diego layover. After more than six months of e-mails, occasional phone calls, and pictures, she gained a friend and confidant. For the first time in years, she felt comfortable with a man to share stories of disastrous dates and everything from the dangerous to the mundane.

    For her, the feelings went further than platonic. But was she willing to risk a possible lifelong friendship for the uncertainty and pitfalls of a sexual relationship? Not that he'd indicated an interest in anything more than what they currently had.

    After six months of sparse showers, rotten food, and sand in every orafice possible, Master Sergeant Joe Sanders felt good to be home and in civvies. It felt even better being with Veronica. 

    Now, all he had to do was to persuade her to take him out of the friend zone. The poor woman was about to learn a valuable lesson- never underestimating a Marine on a mission.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA.C. Nixon
    Release dateDec 29, 2013
    ISBN9781498984782
    Aching for Home

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      Book preview

      Aching for Home - A.C. Nixon

      Copyright © 2013 by A.C. Nixon

      ACHING FOR HOME

      All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      Cover design by Chicklit Cover Design

      Editing by Indie Author Services

      Chapter 1

      Veronica Mills straddled her saddle-shaped barstool and sighed as she watched the cowboys twirl their women around the dance floor. Watching couples play the meeting and mating game pushed the needle on her pity meter into the pathetic zone. Jackson, Wyoming, remained her favorite place to enjoy a layover. Who needed Paris, Athens, or Hong Kong when she could come to this small slice of heaven a few hours from her home in Houston?

      Lord, a woman would have to be brain-dead to not enjoy the scenery in here, Rita said, fanning herself as a group of men in cowboy hats slid up to the bar. Now I know why you always come here in spite of being the single lonely plum in the sugar bowl. I think I may hate you for keeping all this denim-clad man-candy a secret.

      Ronnie laughed at her friend Rita Hernandez and swallowed another mouthful of beer. Don’t even go there. I tried to get your stubborn ass here two years ago.

      I know I’m the runner-up tonight, but trust me, this is going to be a layover of you’ll never forget. Rita leaned over and wrapped an arm around her friend, and waved her bling-covered fingers at the cute bartender "Shots, por favor," she yelled in her sexy Latin Jessica Rabbit voice.

      What? Ronnie’s stomach lurched at the memory of the last time Rita broke up with her rotating-cast boyfriend and shook her head. Not just no, but hell, no. Aren’t we a little too old for this?

      "Speak for yourself, puta — we’re only thirty-five, and that is not old."

      I bet your mama put tequila in your baby bottle to keep you quiet.

      "I wouldn’t put it past her. But don’t blame me because you decided to have a Coyote Ugly moment on the bar… Rita motioned to the bartender for another round of Don Julio and a couple of beers. But I’ve gotta tell you, girl, you shaking all that booty up there was hot."

      I hate you. Ronnie couldn’t stay angry with Rita, and Lord knows she’d attempted it often enough. The two women of them were as different as two people could manage, but they always made time to be there for each other. Through marriages and miscarriage, men and mayhem, the sexy bundle of crazy beside her always had her back.

      Cheers. Rita slid a beer and a shot glass in front of Ronnie after a flirty wink at the bartender. Here’s to dog tags and cowboy boots.

      As she savored the tequila’s slow burn, a delicious shiver rippled through Ronnie’s muscles and made her smile…well, that and the evil grin on Rita’s face. I’m not liking that look.

      What? Rita answered, batting her eyelashes a little too much.

      You know what? I am not going to ruin my buzz trying to untangle that twisted mind of yours. Ronnie leaned over and gave her girl a quick kiss on the cheek. Thanks for coming. I know it’s not Munich…

      "Girl, please, my little German papi will be there next week. Waiting will do him some good. So when will your guy be back?"

      He’s not my guy. Okay, maybe in her fantasies he held that position, but here in reality? Not so much. She and Joe had met in San Diego right before he deployed to Afghanistan, and they managed to keep in touch. Through e-mails, occasional phone calls, and pictures, he became a friend and trusted confidant. They laughed about her disastrous dates, and everything from the dangerous to the mundane.

      He’d have to be both blind and stupid to not want to get in those panties. Drink up, Rita said, lifting her glass.

      The connection between her and Joe almost frightened Ronnie, enough that she didn’t want to ruin a possible lifelong friendship just for meaningless sex. Now, sex and a relationship, she’d be willing to try. It does suck that he isn’t home yet, she said with a shrug.

      I’m sure when you see him, you’ll rock his world.

      Do you ever think about anything but sex?

      Why should I?

      You’re pathetic. Ronnie looked around the crowded bar, ignoring the curious glances of a few men. I’ll be able to breathe again once I see him. I would never tell him, but every time a few days passed without hearing from him, I thought the last communication was my last. I don’t know if I could deal with that. You know what I mean?

      "I know — I think my mother

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