Lock, Stock, and Feral

Hadley. This woman is sheer perfection. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and doesn’t seem to have a single screw lose. She’s a triple threat.
Camila is more or less an obvious train wreck with more loose screws than the local hardware store.
Hadley leans in. “Don’t think less of me, but I tend to do a bit more than that. Let’s face it, Jasper Wilder is the perfect man.” She fans herself with her fingers, and I can feel the breeze as well. “He’s got that demanding black hair, those dreamy pale gray eyes, and when he smiles at you, it’s as if you’re the only woman on the planet.” She groans as if she were in the throes of ecstasy, and I back up a notch in the event I decide to land a right hook.
“He is a good-looking man.” Mom’s brows hike, and I can tell her radar is going off with this one. Geez, if Bizzy and Jasper we’re on the outs, I’d be worried about this. She offers me a short-lived smile. Thankfully, I’ve raised my daughters to have more confidence with men than I ever did. But then, if this chick were trying to hit on my husband back in the day, she would have caught him, hook, line, and stinker. She would be the stinker, of course, even if Nathan were sort of a stinker himself. Women always seem to blame the other woman more than we do our louse of a husband. I’d warn Bizzy about this girl, but I don’t want to be the one to sound the alarm. I think she might have some real trouble on her hands. And I’m not sure she’s up for the challenge.
Gee, thanks, Mom.
I turn back and force a smile as I look to Hadley. “His good looks certainly don’t hurt,” I say. “Go on.”
“Anyway.” She glances to her laptop. “I must have written six different love stories that star Jasper and me by now. They’re all regency period pieces, of course. I’m big on historical romance. In this one, The Duke and the Lady, Jasper is the duke.” She leans my way. “And I hope this doesn’t make you twitchy, but I’ve decided to use our real names in this manuscript. Jasper is just the perfect name for that era, and well, I’m using my nickname Haddie.”
“Sounds like the perfect pairing,” I frown as I say it.
Georgie leans in hard and squints at the woman with suspicion. “Let me get this straight. You’ve already written six different romances with Jasper Wilder as your leading man?”
“That’s right,” Hadley freely admits.
Georgie nods my way. This one has a pair of real cookies on her, Bizzy.
She’s got that right.
“A period romance?” I look to the woman and my eyes fall to her ruby red lips, and I wonder how many times Jasper did just that. “Sounds like a good time.” A killer good time. And I’ll gladly add the homicide component to this story.
“Oh, I love historical romance,” she raves. “They’re so much fun to write. You should take a stab at it. You could write about Jasper and live the dream. Jasper and I always thought we’d have a big family.” Her lids lower a notch. “Well, you know. Anyway, I always give us a happy ending in each book, and I even include a little epilogue where I introduce our blooming brood. I always include Montgomery in each one. That would have been our son. And Samantha and Patrice. I always thought we’d have girls, too, one day.”
“Lovely,” I flatline. I don’t even have names picked out for my imaginary children with Jasper. “So is that what you’re working on now? The regency piece starring Jasper?”
“Yup. But I’m just nitpicking. It’s all done and polished. I’ve even had two different editors go over it. I was about to have it done through Patterson, but things didn’t turn out well for him last night.”
“Patterson?” I shake my head. “Was he an editor, too?”
She shakes her head. “No, he was a publisher. But Jasper probably already knows that. He’s investigating the case,” she says it in such a way as if she were informing me. “If I had known he would have been there last night…” Her eyes flit to the window behind me. I sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen that night to deal with Patterson Higgins. She blows out a steady breath. “But Jasper, well, he caught me off guard.” And I caught him off guard. I knew I was in trouble as soon as he asked the hard questions. I took one look into those starry eyes of his and I couldn’t hold back. I told him the words I’ve always wanted to tell him. A part of me wanted to tell him for all the right reasons—but that stubborn part of me won and I told him for all the wrong reasons. Her eyes graze over my features. And to think this is the woman I was hoping he’d dump last night as he magically ended up in my arms once again.
I gasp without meaning to.
“Everything okay?” She wrinkles her nose my way and looks all that much more adorable. And I can’t stand her all the more because of it.
“Everything is fine,” I grunt. “I just had a great idea for a historical romance myself.” I frown her way. “A hardworking inn owner who finds love with a handsome homicide detective.” I would’ve added the tidbit about my main character having the ability to read minds, but it already hits a little too close to home.
“Sounds lovely.” Any trace of a smile glides right off her face. And far too reality-based for me to be interested in.
I thought so.
Georgie raps her knuckles over the table. “So what kinda heat level are we talking about, missy? Open doors? Closed? Fade to black with a smidge of deliciousness?”
“No fading to black for me.” She giggles like a schoolgirl and my mother joins along in the chortle fest.
“Mom.” I