Surrender 01 - Surrender

was the kind of thing she’d just have to put up with.
    Later, Emily suspected it was that shrug that put things over the top.
    She grabbed the bottle from the drunk’s hand. From the weight of it, it was still half-full Good, she thought, and before the idiot had time to stop her, she jammed the neck of the bottle into that big belly, tilted it so that it was pointed down under his belt and into his pants and had the joy of hearing his laughter turn into an almost girlish shriek.
    The shriek drew everybody’s attention. People turned, stared, saw the stain spreading over the drunk’s trousers and laughed.
    Unfortunately, Gus wasn’t laughing. His face had turned purple. He raised his hand and pointed his finger at Emily.
    “OUT!”
    The crowd went silent. Emily’s heart leaped into her throat.
    “Listen,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean—”
    “Take that ‘I’m too good for this place’ act of yours and get your ass out the door!”
    She stood a little straighter. “If you’d let me explain—”
    Gus marched around the side of the bar and stood in front of her. He was big and bald; he stank of sweat and beer. Close up, the finger he pointed at her was the size of a cigar.
    “You got a problem understanding English?”
    “No. I mean, of course not. I’m just trying to tell you that—”
    “Get the fuck outta here! Don’t make me say it again.”
    Emily began to tremble. “I want what you owe me. My pay for Thursday and Friday and Saturday and for to—”
    “OUT!”
    Her eyes filled with angry tears. Dammit, she would not let anybody in this awful place see her cry! Max could handle the money thing. That was part of his job. Quickly, she bent to the little cubby under the bar where she kept her handbag. When she straightened up, tears were streaming down her face.
    “You,” she said, “you are,—you are not a nice man!”
    Seconds later, she was on the street, in the rain, in the cold, alone in what that stupid song the drunk had requested referred to as the City That Never Sleeps except it was really the City That Had No Heart.

    Emily: Sex and Sensibility is the first book in The Wilde Sisters Trilogy.

    It will be available at all major retailers on April 30 th , 2013.

Below the Radar
    By Mary Joyce

    CHAPTER ONE

    Monica was startled from her short slumber by what sounded like someone trying to break down her apartment door. She had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning after getting home late from work.
    She was peeved, wondering who could possibly be pounding on her door so early in the morning. When the noise didn’t stop, she threw her covers off in frustration, angry that anyone would disturb her at such an early hour? She lay silent, waiting and hoping that whoever it was would just go away. Looking at her vintage alarm clock perched on her small, makeshift night stand, an upside down milk crate she’d found at a second hand store, she sighed. It was only eight AM.
    You've got to be kidding me, she thought as she remained in bed. The silence was again interrupted by the incessant pounding.
    “OK, OK, I'm coming...jeez.” Monica, now furious, jumped up and pulled her pink terry-cloth robe around her while stomping across the cold wooden floors of her sparsely furnished apartment.
    Arriving at her tiny entryway, she grabbed the silver knob, and with the security chain locked tightly in place, opened the front door only a few inches. Peering through the small opening she glanced up and down the hall.
    “Hello...Is anybody there?” Monica needed a better view so she reluctantly removed the chain and fully opened the door. As it creaked open she noticed, to her bewilderment, no one was there.
    She immediately suspected the creepy college dropout who lived a few units down. He never had a shortage of cheesy pick-up lines or dirty jokes to share with her. Perhaps he had just knocked on the door as he passed by on his way out until he heard her moving through the apartment, thinking that he was being amusing.
    Just as she began to turn and close the door, a flat white object on her mat caught her eye. She reached down with one hand, while holding her robe closed with the other, and picked up the envelope.
    Once safely back inside, with her lock securely in place, she noticed the envelope was from the rental office of her building. She walked back to her bedroom, which was little more than an alcove with no wall or door.
    Wondering what the management could be