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    The Dysfunctional Valentine: The Dysfunctional Chronicles, #2
    The Dysfunctional Valentine: The Dysfunctional Chronicles, #2
    The Dysfunctional Valentine: The Dysfunctional Chronicles, #2
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    The Dysfunctional Valentine: The Dysfunctional Chronicles, #2

    By Hadena James

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Nadine Daniels is supposed to get married in one week. However, when her mother and her mother-in-law to be both show up, they bring trouble with them.

    As Nadine struggles to get ready for the wedding, she must also figure out who is after them and why. Or else she'll be exchanging her wedding dress for a funeral gown.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHadena James
    Release dateMay 7, 2015
    ISBN9781513090573
    The Dysfunctional Valentine: The Dysfunctional Chronicles, #2

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      Book preview

      The Dysfunctional Valentine - Hadena James

      Acknowledgments

      For everyone that wanted a sequel to The Life & Dysfunction of Nadine Daniels’.  Big thanks to Jason for letting me ignore him while I worked away on this; and my mother without whom I would never write a book.

      Also by Hadena James

      Dreams & Reality Novels

      Tortured Dreams

      Elysium Dreams

      Mercurial Dreams

      Explosive Dreams

      Cannibal Dreams

      Butchered Dreams

      Summoned Dreams

      Battered Dreams

      The Brenna Strachan Series

      Dark Cotillion

      Dark Illumination

      Dark Resurrections

      Dark Legacies

      The Dysfunctional Chronicles

      The Dysfunctional Affair

      The Dysfunctional Valentine

      The Dysfunctional Honeymoon

      The Dysfunctional Proposal

      The Dysfunctional Holiday

      Short Story Collection

      Tales to Read Before the End of the World

      Prologue

      Bachelor and bachelorette parties are intended to give the groom or bride one last good time before they get hitched.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had a good time without something going terribly wrong.  I was hoping I would have a terrible time and everything would be fine.  However, with my arranged marriage just a week away, maybe a little bad luck would be a good thing.  Maybe I would get another stay of execution.  I doubted it, my mother and Zeke’s mother, Telisa LaRouche, were both at my house.

      Of course, this was technically the third such event.  All the presents from the earlier bachelorette parties had been returned because I hadn’t a clue what else to do with them.

      First, the wedding had been scheduled for May, but Zeke’s appendix had ruptured the day before the wedding.  So it had been moved to October. 

      That hadn’t worked out either.  They had been putting an edition on the church and the crane operator had dropped a 10-ton piece of stone through the ceiling.  We had considered moving it, but my mother was insistent we get married in my grandfather’s church.  She paid the expenses and the wedding had been rescheduled for February.

      That worked out well.  Zeke and I still took our honeymoon, so I got a trip to Hawaii after the second failed attempt.  After the first failed attempt, I had replaced Zeke with Alex and the two of us girls had goofed around in England for two weeks.  During the second one, they had added onto the house (as promised). 

      I still didn’t have any grass outside, but that was ok.  It would grow back in the spring.  Until then, Zeke had hired someone to keep the floors mopped and vacuumed when it rained.  Six Great Danes could track in a lot of mud.

      That being said, this time the wedding was being taken far more seriously.  I was pretty sure that even if my appendix ruptured, my mother would be wheeling me down the aisle and I’d be suffering the first few days of the honeymoon.  They were a determined bunch.

      Saturday

      The bar had been turned into a Den of Sin for the night, or at least that was what the banner on the outside of it proclaimed in bright red letters.  At each end of the banner was a mostly naked man.

      There was a line outside, all female.  They were talking loudly, but stopped when we pulled up.  The doorman, who looked like he would rather have his arm amputated, talked to Alex for a second and then lifted the rope.  We were ushered inside and shown to our waiting tables.

      They were at the very front, nearest the stage.  Alex put me in the very middle with my mother on one-side and my mother-in-law-to-be on the other.  Then she handed me a stack of one-dollar bills.  In theory, I understood what they were for, in reality, the chances of me using them were slim to none. 

      On the plus side, I wasn’t enjoying myself, so my life probably wouldn’t interfere. 

      After we were seated and served drinks, they let in the rest of the women.  Some grumbled as they walked by us.  Others gave me a thumb's up and said congrats.  I was guessing the tiara said something stupid like Bride on it.  Like it wasn’t bad enough that they had forced me into a bright fuchsia prom dress from the 1980’s or that I was wearing a garter belt and white stockings with patented Mary Jane shoes and Mardi Gras beads, the tiara seemed to be their way of adding insult to injury.

      It seemed like an eternity before the lights dimmed.  Pulsing music began to blare over the speakers, deafening me.  My mother began bopping her head to the techno beat.  I stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds.  She smiled and pointed at the stage.

      The stage was filling up with fog.  Lights danced over the fake smoke and threw strange shadows around.  Forms began to appear in the mist.  I looked down the table, my Aunt Olga had her head down and her eyes closed.  I was willing to bet she was asleep.  It was at least an hour past her bedtime.

      The fog machines turned off and the smoke began to waft away.  Behind it were very muscular men.  They reminded me of my employees.  Most of my security agents were built like that.

      To my horror, as the men began to gyrate and grind in time to the music, Telisa let out a whoop of excitement.  My mother, encouraged by this behavior, broke out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it on the stage directly in front of me.  This brought over one of the male dancers.  He performed some complicated moves that made me blush even harder, then yanked off his shirt and threw it to me.  It landed, like a dead snake, on the table.  A few more complicated gestures later and he picked up the twenty with his buttocks.

      The ladies went nuts.  Money instantly began appearing everywhere.  I held onto my stack of ones, thinking I could invest them.  I wasn’t sure how much a moving truck cost, but I was willing to bet the ones would help.

      My own group got rowdier.  They were slinging cash onto the stage and getting bang for their buck.  I slunk into my seat, hoping that if I closed my eyes it would all

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