Off the Rails

Page

Off the Rails

ISBN # 978-1-78430-823-0

©Copyright Isabelle Drake 2015

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2015

Edited by Ann Leveille

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 1.

Make Me Over

OFF THE RAILS

Isabelle Drake

Book one in the Make Me Over series

High school reunion—three words that threaten to derail Madison’s life. Now she has only eight weeks to find the perfect guy, the perfect job, or a way to pretend she has the perfect life.

Madison is less than thrilled when the invitation to her five year high school reunion arrives. When she refuses to RSVP with a yes, her best friend Tia reminds her of a pact they’d made—they’d use the reunion to show up everyone from school. But Madison can’t show up anyone. She isn’t the super famous superstar she’d bragged that she’d be. She’s an unemployed singer with no boyfriend and no job. Her only option? Find a way to fake the perfect life.

Eight weeks isn’t much time. But it is long enough to get drunk and enter a bikini contest, redefine the term date-from-hell, get caught in an awkward ménage and win a bar fight. But will all this bad behavior help Madison snag the blond, blue-eyed geek who was foolish enough not to notice her in high school? No matter what it takes, she’s going to find out.

Dedication

For Malea Dawn Powell

Conversation. Courage. Community.

Trademarks Acknowledgment

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

American Express: American Express Marketing Development Corp.

Crate & Barrel: Euromarket Designs, Inc.

Hot Wheels: Mattel Inc.

Transformers: Hasbro Inc.

Hallmark: Hallmark Licensing LLC

Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

United Dairy: United Dairy Farmers, Inc.

Mission Impossible: Paramount Pictures Corporation

University of Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati

Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

MENSA: American MENSA Limited Not-For-Profit Corporation

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Fabian Andre and Wilbur Schwandt, Gus Kahn

Versace: Gianni Versace S.P.A. Corporation

Calvin Klein: Calvin Klein Trademark Trust

Dolce & Gabbana: Dolce & Gabbana Trademarks

Labatt Blue: 1793161 Ontario Inc

Circle K: Circle K Stores, Inc

Wild Ones: Flo Rida, soFLY & Nius, Sia Furler, Axwell, Jacob Luttrell, Marcus Cooper, Benjamin Maddahi

We Can’t Stop: Mike L. Williams II, Pierre Ramon Slaughter, Timothy Thomas, Theron Thomas, Miley Cyrus, Douglas Davis, Ricky Walters

Denny’s: DFO LLC

Crest: The Procter & Gamble Company

Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co. Corporation

Abercrombie: Abercrombie & Fitch Trading Co. Corporation

RC Cola: Dr Pepper/Seven Up Inc

Maglite: Mag Instrument, Inc

Victoria’s Secret: Victoria’s Secret Stores Brand Management Inc

iPhone: Apple Inc

Anthropologie: Anthropologie, Inc

IHOP: IHOP IP, LLC

YouTube: Google Inc

How The Grinch Stole Christmas: Dr. Seuss Enterprises, L.P. Geisel-Seuss Enterprises, Inc.

Gone: Frequency and Alias

Skyline Chili: Skyline Chili Inc

Xbox: Microsoft Corporation

Maxim: Maxim Media Inc

University of Kentucky: University of Kentucky

Craigslist: Craigslist Inc

Variety: Variety Media, LLC

Busken: Busken Bakery, Inc.

Cadillac: General Motors LLC

Bert: Sesame Workshop Corporation

Ernie: Sesame Workshop Corporation

Boil, Boil, Toil and Trouble: Macbeth, by William Shakespeare

Jaeger: Mast-Jaegermeister SE European Company

West Side Story: The Leonard Bernstein Office, Inc

Hummer: AM General LLC

Jaguar: Jaguar and Rover Limited Private Company

Audi: Audi Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

Heritage Mortgage: Realty Excellence, LLC

Marlboro: Philip Morris USA, Inc.

Cheetos: Frito-Lay North America, INC

La-Z-Boy: La-Z-Boy Incorporated

eBay: Ebay, Inc

Hello Kitty: Sanrio Company Ltd. Corporation

Pepsi: Pepsico, Inc

Skype: Skype Corporation

Netflix: Netflix, Inc.

Graeter’s Ice Cream: Graeter’s Inc

McDonald’s: McDonald’s Corporation

Chapter One

The Stinking Invitation

Mail call!

What’s in today’s stack?

A stupid postcard from Cash’s car dealership with a tin key superglued to it. If this key fits you could be a winner!

Are people who get laid off from stupid, lame ass call center jobs they didn’t really want in the first place winners?

No, they are not. Madison whipped the ad into her hallway trash can, where it landed on top of yesterday’s junk. Back to the rest of the mail.

An American Express statement. Madison hadn’t been anywhere in a long time, and everyone knows that AmEx is for travel, so she didn’t owe them anything. She whipped that one into the trash, too.

Up next, a cute card from her four-year-old cousin, Lizzie. The wobbly pink and red hearts shouted, ‘Its February 14th!’ The purple scribbles might be, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Then again, they might be, ‘You’re unemployed! Whatcha gonna do now? Sell your Crate & Barrel living room set and move back home with Tom and Susan?’

Little kids should be avoided.

Especially when one is having a bad day.

Madison leaned against her apartment door to shut it, crossed to her kitchenette, and propped the card against the fern on her kitchen table. The plant dropped five brittle leaves in protest. Apparently, the plant also was struggling to live the successful, fun, up-and-coming life of a singleton in the hip and hopping city of Cincinnati, Ohio.

About the time Madison was going to throw away the rest of the really uninteresting crap she’d found crammed in her mailbox, she spotted the corner of a bright red envelope. The thick, glossy paper was heavy in her hand.

Her heart thumped, even though she reminded herself that there was absolutely no man who would’ve sent her a valentine. The only cards she’d ever gotten from XY chromosome creatures were those silly ones in elementary school. Hot Wheels and Transformers were hardly the stuff relationships were built on. Besides, everybody knew the boys only passed out cards because they had to. Unfortunately for the single women on both banks of the Ohio, there were no stiff-faced teachers roaming the hilly streets of the river valley reminding guys to stop at Hallmark.

She ran her fingertip around the edges, trying unsuccessfully to block out the impossible possibilities. Stupid, ridiculous notions that some guy had been admiring her every morning when she stopped at Starbucks. He was always busy making deals on his cell, so they’d never crossed paths. She hadn’t noticed him because he was what her mother would call a ‘big shot’ and always wore suits. And because she was ‘an idiot’, she was always looking at the rough-around-the-edges construction guys and figuring they must make more money than she’d realized if they got their java there instead of going to United Dairy for the ninety-nine cent deal.

Madison tossed out the rest of the mail and, still holding the card, slid up onto her tiny kitchen counter. She flipped the envelope over. The back flap was flat and smooth. It was sealed with some serious envelope sealer.

The return address was a PO Box.

Urgh. It could be some demented sex freak.

No. Too creepy.

Who?

Her dad.

Um, no. That was not going to happen. He didn’t even remember his own wife’s birthday.

Trevor? Thinking he was funny?

Her brother was a lot of things. Funny wasn’t one of them. But cheap was, and that explained why he wouldn’t waste the stamp.

She flipped the card over again. This wasn’t a cheap card.

Oh shit.

It’s from some singles group.

Already imagining the perky wording across the top, ‘Alone and lonely on this day of love? Join us!’, Madison jammed her thumbnail under an invisible bit of loose edge, but got nowhere. The ring of her cell cut into the air. She checked the display—her friend Tia. Thank God it wasn’t the singles group calling to make sure she showed up to whatever humiliating event they’d put together.

Did you open it?

Tia has a webcam fixed on my kitchen?

You got a red envelope in the mail, right? Did you open it? Her voice was frantic, shrill even.

Madison frowned. It took a lot to make Tia lose it.

Some freak had gone retro and sprinkled some microscopic nastiness into envelopes? Smallpox? Anthrax? Madison loosened her grip on the red paper and held the envelope as far away from herself as possible. Yeah, I got it.

But you didn’t open it? Right? Good. Don’t. Meet me at The Vine. Bring the envelope.

Okay. So the envelope was not contagious.

Back to the webcam. "Is this being filmed for a new Mission Impossible? Because I am not going to work with Tom Cruise. He’s way too old and way too short. Unless I’m going to be the tough bitch that kicks his ass. Then I’m in."

No comment.

"You say that too often. You sure you