Naughty with Mr. Nice, page 1
NAUGHTY WITH MR.NICE
SPICY STORIES WITH SWEET HEROES
ELIZABETH KELLY
EK PUBLISHING INC.
CONTENTS
Broken
Broken
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
A Home for Lily
A Home For Lily
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Healing Gabriel
Healing Gabriel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Sweet Harmony Excerpt
The Elizabeth Kelly Newsletter
About the Author
Also by Elizabeth Kelly
Copyright © 2023 Elizabeth Kelly
Published by
EK Publishing Inc.
e-ISBN: 978-1-77446-160-0
This book is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed.
Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Cover art by
EK Designs
BROKEN
BROKEN
Ugly…monster…freak.
Ford Taylor has endured the whispers and the horrified stares his entire life. Rejected by both his family and strangers for the way he looks, he’s grown accustomed to his lonely life. His life is changed forever when Stella, the redheaded beauty he harbors a secret crush on, befriends him.
Photographer, Stella Johnson, is fascinated by the quiet man with the unconventional looks. Her sweet nature and her ability to see Ford for who he really is slowly break down the walls he’s built around his heart. Their friendship soon blossoms into love.
But when Ford’s insecurities and a dark secret from his past threaten their relationship, Stella must convince him that their love for each other is the only thing that matters.
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PROLOGUE
His face was one that only a mother could love. An odd mixture of harsh corners and ridges and awkward, oversized features. In truth, his mother didn’t love him. She was both perplexed and a little horrified by the child she had birthed. To have this red-faced, oddly silent creature come sliding out of her after the perfection that was her firstborn made her more than a little uneasy.
Later, long after her husband had returned to their home and the nurses had left her room, she held her baby in her arms and studied each feature silently. He was ugly. She couldn’t - hadn’t wanted to - deny it. The looks on the nurses’ faces, the grimace from her husband when he had first surveyed his new son, had filled her with an odd kind of shame as if she and she alone were to blame for the monstrosity she had given birth to.
As he grew into a man and his body filled out to become an impressive and unforgiving block of sinewy muscle and harsh strength, her unease turned to fear. It didn’t matter that he was gentle and quiet, nor did it matter that her dislike and fear obviously crushed him. He had the face and body of a man who would use his fists instead of his words to solve his problems, and she cringed away from his fumbled attempts to win her love.
Eventually, he gave up. He retreated into his own world and bore his family’s repulsion toward him with a stoic solemnity. His weekly visits turned to monthly, and neither she nor his father and siblings could hide their relief.
He found solace in books, in art, and with the few friends he made. Friends who didn’t care that nature had played so cruelly with his looks or that he was so quiet, one would almost believe he was mute. His life was good, if not a bit lonely, and he was content.
Until he met her.
CHAPTER 1
Stella Johnson pressed the lobby button and rubbed at her back as the doors slid shut and the elevator carried her smoothly and efficiently down thirty-seven floors. The doors opened with a soft ding, and carrying her lunch bag in her hand, she walked briskly toward the atrium located to the left of the front doors.
Her stomach growled softly, and she patted her round tummy before smoothing her dress. It was one of her favourites. A chocolate brown maxi dress that clung to her full breasts but flared out around her stomach and wide hips. It fell to the middle of her calves as most of her dresses did. She liked to hide the depressing way her thighs touched, and she preferred to dress conservatively anyway.
Her shoes click-clacked on the tile floor of the lobby. Bright red and with a heel too high for the office, she loved them with the same passion she imagined a mother might feel for her child. Ridiculous, of course, but her love for shoes came by her naturally. Her mother had close to two hundred pairs of shoes, and Stella was certain not a single one of them had a heel less than two inches high.
“Stelll-lllaaa!”
She grinned at the short, blond man sitting behind the security desk. “Hello, Jimmy. How are you?”
“Can’t complain. Well, I could, but no one would listen.” He stood and stretched. “You’re running late today.”
“Amy had an appointment,” she said.
“Enjoy your lunch.”
“I will.” She hid her small grin as his face suddenly lit up and he hurried around the desk. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that Jasmine, the owner of the small flower shop located in the lobby was walking behind her. The woman was a gorgeous piece of art. Slim and tanned with bright pink hair that should have looked ridiculous on someone her age but didn’t.
A month ago, Stella had coaxed Jasmine into sitting for her. She’d snapped photo after photo of the pink-haired beauty and was delighted with the results. Jasmine was a natural with the camera, and Stella hoped she could convince her to sit for her again.
The entire security team in the building constantly vied for Jasmine’s attention. As Jimmy said hello to Jasmine in a tone entirely different from the one he used with her, Stella smoothed back her own hair.
She knew it was her best feature. Dark red, it was a thick, curly mass that flowed down her back to her waist. Men and women alike complimented her on it daily. Although truthfully, she didn’t always understand the appeal. She longed for smooth, straight dark hair. She’d almost cut it short last year, but her boyfriend at the time was horrified by the idea.
“Your hair is beautiful, Stella,” he’d said earnestly as they laid in bed. “If you cut it off, the only thing people will notice about you is the extra weight you carry around. Do you want people to comment on the size of your ass instead of your hair?”
He hadn’t understood her indignation. He honestly thought he was complimenting her. The relationship limped along for a few more weeks until she finally ended it. Although she was self-confident and for the most part happy with her looks, her weight had always been a sore spot.
She’d made an appointment at the hair salon to cut her hair but chickened out in the end. She told herself it was because her hair had never been shorter than mid-back and it was too strange to see it otherwise. But her ex-boyfriend’s words were always in the back of her mind.
She headed into the atrium, her gait slowing when she saw how full it was. She regularly took a late lunch, covering Amy’s lunch break at reception before taking her own. She didn’t mind. She liked the quietness of the atrium with the lunch crowd long gone.
Although it was never completely empty. There were always a few people milling about and Ford, one of the security guards, took his lunch at the same time. She suspected he enjoyed the solitude as well and she never spoke to him. Not that he even acknowledged her existence. He ate his lunch and then sat with a pencil and sketchpad in his hand. She was often tempted to try and sneak up behind him for a quick glance, but she didn’t have the nerve despite her curiosity. He might wield a pencil instead of a camera, but he was an artist like her, and she would have liked to talk to him about his work.
Today all the small tables were full, and the loud chatter of people echoed in the
Her gaze landed on Ford. He sat at his usual table, hunched over his sketchpad, and ignoring the curious glances of the people sitting at the table closest to him. She had a feeling that he learned at an early age to ignore the looks and the whispers.
There was an empty chair at his table. She wasn’t surprised. She doubted anyone would have the courage to approach him and ask to sit at his table. If the sheer size of his body and the obvious hard line of his muscles didn’t deter them, his unconventional looks definitely did.
Gathering her courage, she weaved her way between the small tables scattered across the atrium until she was standing before him. Engrossed in his sketch, he didn’t look up. She cleared her throat and tugged nervously at her hair.
“Hello, Ford.”
She strained to see what he was drawing. It looked like a portrait, a woman with large eyes and high cheekbones and –
He put his arm over the drawing, blocking it neatly with his large forearm. He gave her a quick, fleeting glance.
“Hello, Stella.”
“Would you mind if I shared your table? The atrium is busy today.”
He made a small backward twitch as if he were simply going to stand up and walk away, before nodding. “Go ahead.”
She sat down as he slid his sketchpad into the large fabric bag that served as his lunch bag. He pulled out an apple, a banana, an orange, a block of cheese as thick as her wrist, a plastic container filled to the brim with roast beef, two hard boiled eggs, and a large muffin.
She opened her lunch bag and brought out her lunch. A small garden salad with an even tinier container of raw almonds that she sprinkled over the salad. Ford opened his container and the smell of roast beef drifted across the table to her. Her stomach growled, and he gave her another one of those quick glances as she blushed.
“Sorry, apparently I’m hungry today.”
She nibbled at her salad, forcing herself to chew slowly as Ford ate his lunch. They sat in silence as she finished her salad and put her container away. Normally she would pull out her book and spend the rest of her lunch hour reading, but it seemed rude when she was sharing a table, even if Ford hadn’t said a word to her.
She looked up as two women she’d never seen before stopped a few feet away from their table. They were staring at Ford with a combination of curiosity and undisguised pity, and she glared frostily at them until they moved on.
If Ford noticed their stares it didn’t seem to affect him. She stared at her neatly painted fingernails. She’d worked in the building for nearly six months now and this was the first time she’d really gotten a good look at his face. Well, as good as she could with him staring grimly at the table.
She wondered if he would be surprised to know how much she wanted to photograph him. She was fascinated by the shapes and contours of his face. While others called him ugly, she thought his face was unique – almost beautiful in its ugliness.
Her stomach growled again, and Ford finally raised his gaze to her. She studied his face - the harsh angles, the bulbous nose, and heavy brow, and the black stubble that grew on his cheeks.
“You don’t eat enough.”
“I’m sorry?” She blinked at him.
“Every day you eat a salad that wouldn’t be enough to fill up a rabbit. You need more protein.”
“I put raw almonds in it,” she said.
He snorted. “A few almonds aren’t a sufficient amount of protein. Protein fuels the body and the muscles.”
She grinned at him. “I haven’t got any muscles.”
“Everyone has muscles.”
“All right, fine. My muscles aren’t as well-defined as yours and probably don’t need half a roast beef to make them happy. How often do you work out, anyway?” She eyed the way his shirt hugged his broad chest and pulled at his shoulders and arms.
“Every day,” he grunted.
“Shocking.” She glanced around the atrium. “It’s busy in here today.”
“The law office on the seventeenth floor is having some kind of conference.”
“Oh.” She cast about for something else to say. She was a talker, always had been, and Ford’s silence unnerved her a bit. “You like to draw, huh?”
He gave her a cautious look before nodding and biting into his apple.
“I’m a photographer. Well, amateur but I love it. I mostly take portraits. I convinced Jasmine to sit for me a few weeks ago.”
He glanced over to where Jimmy and Jasmine were still conversing in the lobby.
“Someone’s got a crush.” Stella grinned.
He grunted and stuffed his empty lunch containers and trash deep into the fabric bag.
“So, have you been drawing since you were a kid?”
He pushed back his chair and stood. “Lunch break’s over. Bye.”
“Bye, Ford.”
He didn’t return her smile. She watched him walk away as people naturally moved out of the way of his large body. She took her book out of her lunch bag and wondered what it must be like to be that intimidating. To never have to throw a thought toward personal safety. She was on the large side for a woman and tall with more weight than she would have liked, but she was also as weak as a kitten. She was being honest when she told Ford she didn’t have muscles. He opened the door behind the security desk and disappeared into the office. With a soft sigh, she opened her book and blocked out the sounds of the chatting and laughter around her.
Ford crammed his massive body behind the tiny desk in the office and stared at his hands. He wasn’t surprised to see them shaking. She had talked to him. He had an actual conversation with her. Well, if you called telling her she didn’t eat enough a conversation.
He didn’t think she was going to show up at the atrium today. She was late and he’d already resigned himself to the fact that his brief glimpse of her this morning would be it for the day. Unless he happened to see her as she was leaving.
When she’d finally shown up with her lunch bag in hand and wearing his favourite dress, a small thrill went through him. When she had actually approached him, tugging on a strand of that amazing, flame-coloured hair, and asked to join him, he’d nearly run like a startled deer.
Staring at her from a distance was a completely different experience from having her sitting across the table. He hoped she didn’t get a good look at his sketch. He was certain that women didn’t like the idea of a man drawing secret pictures of them.
He was ridiculously pleased that she shared information with him. He knew she liked to take photos. He’d heard Jasmine telling Jimmy about it at the security desk and caught a glimpse of the pictures Jasmine showed Jimmy. Stella was good and he admired her ability.
He took a deep breath. Christ, she smelled good. Like a combination of vanilla and some type of flower. He was struck by the way she’d looked at him. Like she noticed the ugliness of his features but wasn’t horrified by it, as so many other people were. He rubbed his forehead. Thinking that she didn’t mind his looks was a bad idea. Women were disgusted by him, even someone as sweet as Stella.
