One New Message (A Dark Romance Novel) Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  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

  Epilogue

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1: Anita

  Chapter 2: Gage

  Chapter 3: Anita

  Chapter 4: Gage

  Chapter 5: Anita

  Chapter 6: Gage

  Chapter 7: Anita

  Chapter 8: Gage

  Chapter 9: Anita

  Chapter 10: Gage

  Chapter 11: Anita

  Chapter 12: Gage

  Chapter 13: Anita

  Chapter 14: Gage

  Chapter 15: Anita

  Chapter 17: Gage

  Chapter 17: Anita

  Epilogue

  One New Message

  Vivian Ward

  Copyright © 2017 by Vivian Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Caught In the Middle

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Our Dirty Secret

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  About the Author

  One Wild Night

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Dare Me

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Status: It’s Complicated

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  Chapter 1: Anita

  Chapter 2: Gage

  Chapter 3: Anita

  Ch
apter 4: Gage

  Chapter 5: Anita

  Chapter 6: Gage

  Chapter 7: Anita

  Chapter 8: Gage

  Chapter 9: Anita

  Chapter 10: Gage

  Chapter 11: Anita

  Chapter 12: Gage

  Chapter 13: Anita

  Chapter 14: Gage

  Chapter 15: Anita

  Chapter 17: Gage

  Chapter 17: Anita

  Epilogue

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by Vivian Ward

  Vivian Ward Newsletter

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  Chapter 1

  Drew

  “Hey Drew, we’re going to go out for Happy Hour. Want to go tonight?” Paul asks as we are packing up for the day.

  I’d like to go, but I know it’s best if I go home. Madison won’t care one way or the other, but I’m tired anyway.

  “Nah, I think I’ll pass tonight,” I say to him, throwing my cooler in the back of my pickup. “Madison is probably waiting for me,” I lie.

  I’d hope that she’s sitting at home waiting for me, but the truth is, she’s probably doing a million other things—none of which involve thinking about me. Most likely, she’s cooking or reading.

  The kitchen or the bedroom, those are her two hangouts.

  Plus, if I do go out for a drink with the guys, it’s never a Monday night because I always watch Monday Night Raw on USA Network. On the rare occasion that I do go out with them, it’s typically a Friday night after payday when nothing’s on TV, and I’ve got a few bucks to blow.

  Lord knows nothing else is getting blown around our house.

  Our sex life has definitely seen better days but it seems like I can’t get through to Madison anymore. We don’t talk like we used to and we barely ever have sex. I spend a lot of my time looking at porn, thinking of all the things I could do to my pretty wife—provocative, sexy, stunning and gorgeous are all words that I would actually use to describe her, but she’s too shy. She gets embarrassed when I say those things to her; she’s too goody-goody.

  Madison hates it when I refer to her as anything other than pretty, but she’s wrong which is what frustrates me so much. I wish I could shake her and pin her down to do some naughty things to her while she wore nothing but a thin scrap of silk or lace to cover herself, but she won’t do that. She never gets dressed up in lingerie for me—at least not anymore.

  Early on in our marriage, she would slip into something sexy like a teddy or a leather dress; but not anymore. Everything has changed, yet some things remain the same.

  When we are intimate, the sex is mechanical. There’s a certain order or pattern in which things are done, and it’s always the same—when we have sex, that is.

  On the attempts when I’m lucky, it always starts off with me playing with her and then her going down on me just long enough to get me hard, and then I climb on top of her until I’m finished.

  There’s nothing sexy about any of it. Half the time she wears an oversized t-shirt to bed and rarely shaves her legs.

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” Paul rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head as he walks past me. “If you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”

  They’ve been going to the same bar after work for Happy Hour for years—The Progress Bar. It’s a small, crowded little place that everyone loves. It actually gives you that feeling you get from the old TV show, Cheers.

  Madison hates it there. She complains about smelling like an ashtray when you leave and says it’s much cheaper to drink at home. She’s not wrong on either account, but I don’t want to entertain guests after work. I just want to have a few drinks, come home, take a shower, and watch some TV before I conk out.

  I never signed up to marry a roommate. When we got married eight years ago, in our mid-twenties, she was always dressing up, doing her hair and makeup and fussing over her nails.

  She primped herself each and every day, but now I’m lucky if she takes a razor to her legs twice a month or does something with her hair other than a sloppy ponytail on top of her head.

  And honestly, I don’t care whether or not she wears makeup or does her hair. To me, she’s beautiful no matter how she looks, but I think it’s taken a toll on her self-confidence—or maybe our marriage has dragged her down.

  I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t think she even orgasms when we have sex. And believe me, it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve taken it upon myself to read every sex column in Men’s Health and Maxim in regards to fellatio and teasing her G-spot, but she seems unwilling to enjoy herself.

  It’s like the two of us have drifted to entirely different planets, and my planet is heading toward a different galaxy. And I can’t say that it’s all her fault because that would be a lie. I know I’ve got my part to blame in all this.

  I’ve also let myself kind of go. There was a time where I used to make sure I always had a proper shave, my hair was nicely styled, and I smelled good, but that’s all changed, too. I don’t see much of a point in keeping up my appearance if she’s not doing the same.

  But it seems like our declining sex life has jumped off a cliff; though, I’m not sure exactly when or where. In the past year, we’ve only had sex twice, and it’s killing me.

  As much as I love to get off, that’s not all sex is to me. I crave interaction, touch, and companionship—none of which I’m getting from her.

  I’m not proud of this, but I’ve considered having an affair; not because I don’t love Madison because I do. I love her so much, but I can’t go without the touch of a woman and the intimacy that comes with sex, but that’s when I found a fascinating read that I’m considering putting into action.

  I forwarded it to myself so that I could think about it because I didn’t know how I felt about a stranger duping my wife. This is what the ad said:

  So, ever wonder what your wife 'really thinks' sexually? There's a chance you could unlock some secrets.

  This all happened by accident when I texted a woman and got the digits transposed. Long story short, we kept talking a bit, and she was a cute, wholesome soccer mom with hidden, unfulfilled desires.

  So I thought this might work again, and it did, however, to be safe and assure that I don't get an old grandma or worse a kid...ick, its best to get a number or kik from you guys.

  Now, there's a chance she might say wrong #. Or piss off creep....but, she might not. If she gets curious, and we all know most women are, you will get copies of her responses.

  The number I use is out of state, and it's text only, so no calls, and if she isn't responsive, that's the end of it.

  So do you want to know anything?

  The concept is genius, but it feels wrong to let my wife confess her secret thoughts to a complete stranger, but what if I could get her to confess them to me—as a stranger?

  Obviously, since we’re on two different planets she’s not going to just randomly open up to me one day, but I am curious to know what’s going on in her head.

  Maybe it would be easier for her to open up to a stranger. Someone whom she believes to be non-judgmental; though, I’d never judge her anyway. All I want to do is break the barrier that’s separating us and get back to when things were good between us.

  The more I think about it, the more I want to do it. It could be fun, it could be interesting, and it could sure as hell be very informative if she fell for something like this. It would also give me insight as to what she might tell others about me, or about us.

  Or what if she told me things about herself that I never knew?

  A chill runs down my spine as my gut wrenches. This could give me answers to
questions that I never had and allow me to find out about things that I’ve always wanted to ask but never could.

  My nerves are starting to get the best of me, so I try to push it out of my mind but the further I push, the more it dominates my thoughts. This could legitimately work.

  How many times in our life do we actually get to be the fly on the wall that we’ve always wanted to be? This could be my only opportunity, but it sort of feels wrong.