Chance rapids books 1 5, p.1
Chance Rapids: Books 1-5,
p.1
Chance Rapids
Books 1-5
A.J. Wynter
Contents
Also by A.J. Wynter
Second Chances
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
One More Chance
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Accidental Chances
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
A Secret Chance
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Reckless Chances
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 - Charlie
Sneak Peek
1. Jessie
Reader’s Club
Also by A.J. Wynter
Connect with A.J.
Copyright 2021 by AJ Wynter - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Author's Note:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third party websites or their content.
Editing: Teresa Banschbach
Cover Design: Kari March Design
Created with Vellum
Also by A.J. Wynter
Laketown Hockey Series
Not a Player
Hating the Rookie
The Coach Next Door
Chance Rapids Series
Second Chances
One More Chance
Accidental Chances
A Secret Chance
Reckless Chances
Titan Billionaire Brothers
For Richer, For Poorer, Book 1
For Richer, For Poorer, Book 2
Her First Time Series
The Biker’s Virgin
The Mountain Man’s Virgin
The Rancher’s Virgin
* * *
Second Chances
Chance Rapids Book 1
One
Megan’s disappointment had grown familiar, the monthly betrayal of her body. She used to get excited when she was a few days late, rushing out to buy a pregnancy test, holding her breath and adding and deleting baby names from the ongoing list in her head, but nothing had prepared her for this kind of betrayal.
She felt that something was off with Alex; she had witnessed the rift between them widen from crack to chasm as the years had gone by. She chalked it up to the stress of daily life and the routine that came with a fifteen-year marriage.
She paced back and forth across the living room, practically wearing a trail in the Berber carpet. “There has to be a logical explanation,” she thought to herself, the rational side of her brain trying to give Alex some credit, even though in her heart, and her gut, she knew that there was no explaining away the ultrasound baby photo clenched in her hand that she had found tucked away in the pocket of his gym bag.
The problem?
It wasn't hers.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the high-pitched whistle of the tea kettle. She pulled a white tea-stained mug out of the cupboard, her favorite, and plucked a tea bag out of the canister on the counter, but instead of dropping it into the mug, she gripped the dry bag in her fist as she doubled over on the counter into a heaving sob.
“Pull yourself together," she whispered and angrily wiped away the errant tear that had managed to fall down her cheek. She dropped the tea bag into the mug, topped it with the steaming water, then went back to pacing. When she opened the fridge to pull out the milk, one of her birthday cards that had been magnetized to the door fell to the floor and landed on her wool sock. Megan picked it up, screamed, and ripped it in half, glitter from the lettering sprinkling onto the white floor tiles. She knew that it was supposed to be funny, that her friend Amy had given it to her to make her laugh, not knowing how cruel the "Here's another year closer to Velcro shoes" saying was to her. The only Velcro shoes Megan wanted in her life were those belonging to a baby, or a toddler, not her own. She knew that at forty-three, the chances of conceiving were slim to none, but still held out hope that she would be one of the success stories she read about online.
She pulled the milk out of the fridge and shakily poured a touch into her Earl Grey tea.
She wanted to march down to his office, burst in, slam the photo down on his desk, and demand an explanation, but she still hadn't figured out what she would do when she heard the truth – that is, if he even fessed up to it.
She heard the garage door motor whirr and his car pull into the garage. She slipped the photo into the back pocket of her jeans, took a deep breath to steel her nerves, then sat down at the kitchen table.
"Hi, honey." Alex breezed into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. "Is it ever getting dark early now," he mused as he pulled a piece of cut celery out of the crisper.
"Yes. Dark." Megan took a sip of her tea, recoiling as the hot liquid hit her lips. She hadn't even noticed the afternoon turn to evening.
Alex strode over to Megan and pecked her on the cheek, "Don't worry about making me dinner, I'm going to hit the gym and then head out to meet Robbie Mason.
Robbie Mason was one of Alex's new consulting clients, and she hadn’t met him - which wasn't out of the ordinary. She rarely saw his clients face to face they were just names on her bookkeeping spreadsheets. She had noticed that Alex had billed Robbie Mason more than double the number of hours that were typical. It seemed a little strange to her, but like so many other red flags that she saw in retrospect, she had ignored it.
She stared at her slightly balding husband of fifteen years as he lied directly to her face.
"Oh, don't worry. I didn't make you anything t
o eat," she said and attempted another sip of her tea.
Alex looked past Megan at the cold kitchen. Megan loved getting her crock pot out and usually had something bubbling and steaming on the counter for Alex when he got home from work.
"Everything okay Meg?"
"Why do you have to meet Mr. Mason this late?"
She saw the hesitation in his face, she saw the way his lips contorted right before he spoke, "Oh, you know, the usual contract stuff."
"You know what Alex? I don't know. Why don't you fill me in?"
Alex's eyes went dark and he slammed the refrigerator door shut. "I don't have time for this, go check the invoices if you want a play by play of his account."
Megan had been taking care of the books for Alex's private consulting company for the past ten years, and while she knew who the clients were, they rarely sat down and discussed the details of each individual account.
Megan grabbed Alex's wrist and glared into his dark brown eyes, "Make time."
Alex pulled his wrist from Megan's grip and stared back, "What's gotten into you?" He brushed past her into the mudroom and picked up his gym bag. "I'll see you when I get home," he said and grabbed a baseball hat from the rack by the back door.
Her rage had been simmering, but when Alex dismissed her, it boiled up and over. She gripped her mug and hurled it at the wall by Alex's head. He jumped as the pottery pieces clattered to the floor around his feet and the tea streamed down the wall.
"What the hell, Megan?"
"What the hell Megan?" she growled, her voice gravelly and unfamiliar to her own ears. "What the hell Megan?" she repeated and pressed her hands into the table and slid off the chair. "How about what the hell, Alex?" She pulled the photo out of her back pocket and flicked the evidence at him.
She saw his face fall as the photo flitted through the air and came to rest amongst the broken pottery.
"Meg, I--, I---"
"You, what?" Megan interrupted.
"I'm sorry," he said, unable to meet her gaze, and then he walked out of the house.
Two
"And he just walked out?"
Megan's best friend, Charlotte, pulled the silk blanket from the back of her couch and wrapped it around Megan's shoulders.
"Yep. Just walked out."
"I can't believe it. I mean, I never thought that he was the cheating kind of guy." Charlotte pressed a button on the small remote that sat next to the bright pink orchid on the marble side table and flames jumped to life in the large gas fireplace. The first snowfall of the season was battering her leaded glass windows.
"Neither did I."
"And that's when you turned into a crazy person?"
Megan sighed, "Yep."
Megan had chased Alex into the garage and stood behind the car until he agreed to explain what was going on.
The worst-case scenarios she had imagined were accurate and compounded by the fact that her husband was planning to leave her for his twenty-six-year-old pregnant girlfriend named Roberta Mason.
Blind rage overtook her, she had grabbed one of his precious golf clubs, and by the time he was able to back out of the garage his prized Lexus had one less functioning window.
"You're crazy," he had screamed as he squealed the wheels out of the driveway.
Megan had crumpled to the garage floor in a heap, the grip of the nine-iron held loosely in her hands. She sobbed for the loss of everything she knew, everything she had known for the past fifteen years.
She pulled herself up off the floor only once the cold from the concrete had seeped deep into her bones and she shuffled back into the house.
"Ah, the old nine iron - the classic scorned wife weapon. Who are you, Mrs. Tiger?" Charlotte attempted to joke.
Megan knew that she was trying to make light of the situation.
"I know. I'm such a cliché," Megan sighed.
"He's going to regret it, you know that right, Meg?" Charlotte rubbed her friend’s knee.
"You know what the sad thing is?" Meg said, although the second she uttered those words knew they were something that shouldn't be said to her headstrong independent friend.
Charlotte eased back onto the couch and pursed her lips, "What? That you'd take him back?"
"Yes," Megan whispered.
Suzanna, Charlotte's housekeeper peeked her head into the sitting room, "Miss, your coffee is ready. Would you like me to bring it to you?"
Charlotte was a self-made woman, someone who had come from nothing and built an empire in real estate. She rarely spoke about her upbringing but had once let it slip that as a young child their family didn't have an indoor bathroom. She prided herself on treating everyone with respect. Her staff was the best paid in the state and treated like family.
"Thanks, Suzy, that would be great." She smiled at her housekeeper, "Megan takes--"
"Two creams," Suzy shouted over the whirring of the espresso machine.
Suzanna delivered the mugs of coffee into the sitting room on a tray, along with some biscotti.
"Suzy, could you please get me the number for Margot Meyer?"
Suzanna cast a look between the two friends. Margot Meyer was a well-known divorce attorney. If she wasn’t the best, she was definitely the most expensive. "Of course."
"I can't afford her," Megan whispered as Suzanna left the room.
"No, but I can." Charlotte dunked the biscotti in her coffee and bit off a piece. "Mmmm. This is the best I've ever had, what are these? Almonds?"
"Stop trying to change the subject, you know that I always put almonds in my biscotti," Megan took a sip of her coffee. "I'll deal with everything. I don't need your help."
Charlotte brushed the biscotti crumbs off her lap. "Meg. Your husband of fifteen years has left you for a child who is having his baby. All those years you've been supporting him, working for free to build up his business, making all of those fancy dinners for his clients, you deserve to walk away from this with your head held high and with a pocket full of money."
"I guess I'm just not there yet." Megan looked up as Suzanna walked back into the room and slipped her boss a piece of paper.
"Thanks Suzy," Charlotte said, and picked up her cell phone.
"That's what your friends are for. To help get you where you need to be." Charlotte punched the number into her phone and left a message for Margot Meyer to call her back.
