Sapphire Falls: Going Rate for Mr. Right (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Erin Nicholas. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Sapphire Falls remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Erin Nicholas, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Also by Jessie Evans

  Tell Jessie Your Favorite Part!

  About the Author

  GOING RATE FOR MR RIGHT

  A Sapphire Falls

  Kindle World Novella

  By Jessie Evans

  About the Book

  Mason Riley’s cousin Noah is about to prove that smart and sexy run in the family…

  If Yasmin North knows one thing for certain it’s that love sucks and then you cry. That’s why she’s moving forward with her Happily Ever After solo, with the help of a sperm sample from a double PhD holder.

  At least that was her plan until the sperm bank sold her the wrong sample and she ended up deep in let-me-have-your-baby-batter negotiations with her unnamed donor. Her homecoming to Sapphire Falls is taking a hard turn for the sour, and that’s before her mother’s prize-winning rooster, Sampson the Third, makes it clear he’s out for blood—Yasmin’s blood.

  The first time Noah Riley visited his cousin, Mason, he fell hard for Sapphire Falls. So he’s not really surprised to find himself falling hard for a Sapphire Falls girl. The moment Yasmin races past him, chased by a demon rooster, his gut utters two words—yes and mine. He and Yasmin share an instant connection, but convincing this wounded woman to let him be her knight in faded blue jeans is harder than he ever imagined.

  Especially when he discovers she’s the woman who was accidentally given his sperm sample!

  Can Yasmin and Noah survive the attack of the killer poultry and find their way to you and me and baby makes three the old-fashioned way?

  Or will the scars from the past keep two destined lovers from their Meant To Be?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Yasmin

  Yasmin North, only child, miracle child, late in life blessing to Sada Wang and her husband Peter North, was born under a lucky sign.

  Her mother, an expert at interpreting the Chinese lunar calendar, had no doubt that this was true. Brought into the world on the fourth calendar day in the year of the rat, Yasmin would be intelligent and fond of study, marry a loving husband, and thrive into a happy, healthy old age. And since Sada had pushed with extra intensity to make certain her daughter was born on this fortuitous day, she took both pride in and credit for setting her offspring up to succeed from the moment of her first breath.

  Sada was so convinced that Yasmin had been born lucky that for thirty-four years she had stubbornly ignored all the signs to the contrary.

  As Yasmin streaked across the Sapphire Falls town square, running for her life, chased by a vicious rooster named Sampson the Third—son of Sampson the Second, grandson of Sampson the First, and the latest in a long line of prize-winning roosters born to collect blue ribbons at the state fair and hate Yasmin with the passion of a thousand white-hot suns—she wondered if this would be the day her mother finally admitted that, somewhere along the line, Yasmin’s lucky star had gotten crossed.

  She wasn’t blessed. She was cursed.

  Cursed with the worst luck on the planet and a healthy dose of poor judgment to boot.

  She should never have told her mother that she would handle unloading the animals at the petting zoo.

  Her mother’s roosters had always hated her. Always. It was as if they could sense that Yasmin was the only thing in the world that Sada loved more than her feathered babies. Even Yasmin’s father, a kind-hearted farmer whose skin had weathered to the same shade as the light brown clay soil he worked, came second to Sada’s magnificently bred roosters.

  Magnificent bastards, Yasmin thought, crying out in pain as Sampson the Third got close enough to peck the back of her bare calf.

  She poured on a burst of speed, arms churning at her sides as she dashed past the gazebo in the middle of the town square, where craft and food booths were already set up for the town’s annual festival. People who had known her as a child and borne witness to similar bouts of rooster rage, shot her pitying looks, and Mrs. Minx called out that she would text Yasmin’s mom and let her know she needed help, but everyone was either too busy, or too concerned with the fate of their own unprotected calves, to intervene. As she shot past the Jaycee’s popcorn hut, Yasmin dared to hope that Sampson might be distracted by a cluster of little kids dropping kernels onto the ground, but of course he wasn’t.

  Sampson had tasted Yasmin blood and was now infected with the same unholy hunger as his forebearers. From now until the day of his death, this rooster would hunt her with the single-minded intensity of a deranged serial killer.

  The thought wrenched a hysterical sob from Yasmin’s chest.

  Thoughts like that just weren’t funny anymore. Not when she’d spent several months last year dating a man who had later been unmasked as the Texas Terror, a serial killer responsible for taking the lives of dozens of women, including Yasmin’s best friend’s sister-in-law.

  It was the straw that had broken the camel’s back.

  Cheaters, losers, bums, and liars were one thing—and Yasmin had certainly dated her fair share of those—but knowing she’d gone to bed with a murderer and had no flipping idea that the hands that touched her with such tenderness had committed acts of unspeakable brutality had sealed the deal.

  And Yasmin’s fate.

  From now on, she was a solo agent. Clearly her judgment couldn’t be trusted, which meant no more dating, no more men, no more rolling the dice and hoping the next man to take her out for coffee would turn out to be the Prince Charming her mother always assured her was waiting around the corner. With luck like Yasmin’s, she just couldn’t take the risk.

  Learning the truth about her ex had been the wake-up call she needed to realize that her happily ever after was never coming, at least not riding on a white horse. Her thirty-fifth birthday was closing in fast. If her dreams of children and a big, happy family were ever going to come true, she was going to have to manifest them on her own.

  That’s why she’d moved home to the old farmhouse on her parent’s property, the little one where she’d grown up before her mom and dad had built their dream house down by the stream where Pop loved to fish. Her parents would let her live there for free, and she’d found work as a virtual assistant to several independent musicians who needed someone perky and personable to manage their social media pages. She could live modestly, but happily, on her income and when the baby was born, she would be all set up to work from home.

  Of course, all of that was assuming the perfectly perfect sperm she’d paid top dollar for wasn’t ripped from her clutches before her insemination appointment next Monday.

  Because of course, the clinic director who’d sold her t
he sperm had made a mistake and sold her a specimen that was supposed to be in the “storage only” fridge. And of course, the sperm donor, upon being informed of the mistake, was not on board with having his sample used by a stranger. And of course, Yasmin had already gotten her heart set on the sperm of the only double PhD holder in the Omaha, Nebraska bank.

  The man had his doctorate in both computer science and social work for God’s sake. He was both scientifically brilliant and kind. Not to mention that the stud was also allegedly six foot two with a “muscular build,” which would help compensate for the fact that Yasmin was just a hair over five feet and inclined to get a little curvier than average.

  Basically, he was perfect, and in her mind, already the other half of her baby’s genetic code.

  She had to convince him to change his mind…whoever he was.

  If she lived through this rooster attack, she would find out tomorrow morning, when she had a date to meet TheArkIsAMyth—his e-mail handle, the only thing she knew about this guy, who hadn’t even wanted to trust her with his name—for breakfast at Dottie’s Diner.

  As Yasmin jogged out of the town square, past city hall, and out into the fields at the edge of town, with Sampson the Third still hot on her heels, living to see tomorrow morning no longer seemed like a foregone conclusion. Her breath rasped in her chest, her legs were beginning to cramp, and the rooster was showing no signs of stopping. Meanwhile, the sounds of civilization and all the happy Sapphire Falls citizens enjoying the town festival were fading away.

  She was on her way into the wilderness where she would either get obscenely sweaty outrunning a rooster in the mid-day sun or pass out from heat exhaustion and be pecked to death. Either way, she supposed she was glad she would be alone when it was all over.

  Like most personable, perky people, Yasmin enjoyed the company of others, but when she was at her lowest, she liked to be alone.

  Alone with her shame, her sweat, and her irresistible-to-roosters and other bastards, curvier than average, nearly-thirty-five-years-old-and-not-getting-any-more-fertile body.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Noah

  Noah Riley stood next to his cousin, Mason, surveying a field of ready-to-be-harvested, frost-and-bug-resistant asparagus, thinking that it wasn’t quite fair that everything his genius cousin touched came up roses.

  Or at least, green and healthy and ready to be used to feed people and rebuild nations.

  Noah’s touch wasn’t quite so magical. Sure he was as successful as his cousin in his chosen field—anti-espionage and alternative-education computer software—but his personal life…

  Well, it could be better. A lot better.

  Like not dating Miss Wrong for the umpteenth time better. He’d tried everything from dating websites to singles’ groups, to bar hops, to a professional matchmaking service that guaranteed your money back if they failed to hook you up with a long-term relationship. Noah’s money had been returned two months ago, when he’d caught Kyra, the yoga teacher he’d met through the service, banging his secretary in the company bathroom. The female secretary, but in the men’s bathroom.

  It was almost like they’d wanted him to catch them…

  He sighed, trying to think of something complimentary to say about the asparagus. He had always enjoyed his visits to Sapphire Falls. The fact that he was here to talk a woman out of having his baby and arrange for the transfer of his other sperm samples before the idiots at the clinic could sell off the rest of his baby batter to the highest bidder didn’t mean he couldn’t have a good time. Or at least, be pleasant company.

  “It’s very green.” Noah nodded seriously at the field. “And…firm. It looks nice and firm.”

  Mason chuckled. “Are you sure you want to buy a farm someday? Your enthusiasm for agriculture seems a little lacking, cuz.”

  “My enthusiasm for everything is a little lacking right now.”

  “I think you should be flattered,” Mason said, that amused grin that had been tugging at his lips most of the day creeping across his face. “I mean, a woman is so desperate for your superior jizz that she’s willing to pay two thousand dollars for one shot at becoming your baby mama.”

  “She wouldn’t be my baby mama.” Scowling, Noah tugged his ball cap lower on his forehead. In San Francisco, he spent most of his time indoors and his skin wasn’t ready for the intensity of June-in-Nebraska sun. “She would be a stranger having a child with half of my genetic material. A fatherless child since she isn’t married or involved and apparently has no plans to be.”

  Mason grunted. “That is a little odd. Especially for Sapphire Falls. People around here tend to be more traditional.”

  “Exactly, which means the baby would be the odd kid out,” Noah said, knowing from experience that being odd kid out was no fun. He’d ditched his inch-thick glasses and nerd status years ago, but the memories of growing up on the outside looking in lingered. “Not to mention the fact that I do intend to move here someday and start a family of my own. I’m sure my future wife wouldn’t be too pleased to learn that our kids will have an older half-brother or half-sister running around town, even if he or she was conceived via sperm sample.”

  “It would be scandalous,” Mason said, dark eyes flashing. “You’d be small town famous. Great way to get your name out there and start meeting people while you’re new in town.”

  Noah glared at him from the shade of his ball cap. “I don’t want to be small town famous. And I don’t want a child I’ll never know. I’m telling the woman no.”

  Mason nodded thoughtfully as he turned away from the field, pinning Noah with a hard look. “Then why are you meeting with her? If your mind is made up?”

  “I’m already in town to arrange the transfer of the other samples, and she seems so upset by the whole thing.” Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed like the decent thing to do. To meet her and try to let her down easy.”

  Mason clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man. Are you sure Adrienne and I can’t convince you to move sooner rather than later? I know Sapphire Falls is small, but the ratio of beautiful, intelligent women per capita is high, and I could hook you up with all the best gossipy matchmakers in town.”

  Noah laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m having enough trouble in a metropolitan area with an endless dating pool. I think I’d better stay where I am until I find the future Mrs. Riley.”

  “I understand, but—” Mason was interrupted by a bleet from his jeans pocket. He tugged his cell phone free and frowned at the screen. “Damn. Looks like Peanut’s fever has spiked again.”

  Peanut—AKA Carver, Mason’s nearly three-year-old son, named after one of Mason’s agricultural scientist heroes—had been feeling sickly since the morning Noah arrived in town. It seemed to be just a bug going around the local preschool, but Mason and his wife, Adrienne, were keeping a close eye on their brown-eyed boy. They were devoted parents and Peanut was flat-out adorable, even when glassy-eyed and fighting a fever while ruling the DVD player with a sticky little fist. In the past two days, Noah had watched more Sesame Street than he’d realized existed and could now sing every word to “Pre-School Musical,” Carver’s favorite song, right along with the rest of the Riley household.

  Seeing them all together had made Noah even more keenly aware that he was thirty-two and not getting any younger. He’d always assumed he would, at least, be married by now, but there was no potential Mrs. Riley on the horizon, let alone the start of that big family he’d always wanted.

  Growing up an only child did that to a person, he supposed. Especially a person who had lost his father when he was fourteen years old and had felt the knowledge of how quickly life could pass you by hanging over his head ever since.

  Mason tapped out a message, murmuring in a concerned voice, “Adrienne wants me to run into town for more Children’s Tylenol and the ginger ale Peanut likes. Apparently the brand I got yesterday tastes like soap in yucky bathwater. His words.”

  N
oah grinned. Damn, he loved that kid. “Why don’t I go,” he offered, “if you have things you need to get done here. I have a few hours before I need to head into the city for my meeting with the sperm bank director.”

  “No, I’m good. I’m just bummed that Carver isn’t kicking this bug.” Mason took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair, squinting up into the morning sun. “Adrienne was hoping to take him to ride the kiddie rides at the festival tonight.”

  “You’ve still got a few days,” Noah said. “Hopefully, he’ll be back to normal before the end of the week.”

  Mason nodded as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “And at least, the fever isn’t too high. Adrienne and I get worried if we see anything over a hundred. You want a ride back to the house before I go?”

  “I think I’ll finish the walk,” Noah said, gesturing toward the rest of the acreage ready for spring harvest. “It’s good to be outside after months of being cooped up in the office with that new program.”

  Mason nodded. “All right. Text me if you need a lift in later. It won’t take long for me to run to town and back.”

  “Will do.” Noah gave Mason a brief salute before turning to wander down the rows of vegetables, pulling in deep lungfuls of the country air.

  His friends back in the city thought he was crazy for wanting to move to Nowheresville, Nebraska, but they didn’t know how good the air smelled here. Or how the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, promising that good things were just around the corner. The Bay Area was a place of brooding fog and chilly mornings, even in the dead of summer.

  Noah loved the people he worked with and had enjoyed his time in Nor Cal, but he was ready for something simpler, sunnier. Ready for big blue skies and stretches of land without a manmade structure for miles and room to breathe and grow things. Things like vegetables and babies and dreams that have nothing to do with binary code.