Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Read online

  Toronto Collection, Volume Three

  Heather Wardell

  Smashwords Edition

  http://www.heatherwardell.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should visit your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Before You Begin This Collection

  Good to Myself

  Pink is a Four-Letter Word

  Everybody's Got a Story

  Fifty Million Reasons

  Acknowledgements

  Also By Heather Wardell

  Before You Begin This Collection

  Have you read my free novel, "Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo"? It starts my "Toronto series" of loosely connected books, so if you haven't read it yet, I suggest you pick it up first! You can pick it up at your favorite retailer.

  After that, you might want my "Toronto Collection Volume One", which contains books 2-5 in the series, and "Toronto Collection Volume One" to get books 6-9. (You can of course buy the books individually, but the collection is cheaper!)

  The collection you're reading right now is Volume Three, which contains the next four novels in the series:

  "Good to Myself": One obstacle keeps columnist Lydia Grange from the promotion she craves: beating her two coworkers in a "be 'good to yourself' for four weeks" competition. Piece of (cheese)cake. Lydia, queen of instant gratification, will indulge herself even more, ensure her readers do too, and it'll be the easiest month of her life. Unless... could there be more to self-care than sex and shopping and sugar?

  "Pink is a Four-Letter Word": Nothing ever comes easily for Larissa, a makeup artist who both loves and fears pink and all things feminine. After a particularly painful string of disasters, she takes a job teaching English in Kuwait in the hopes that she will be a new and better person there. But can she really leave her psychological baggage behind in Toronto, or is it true that 'wherever you go, there you are'?

  "Everybody's Got a Story": Both personally and professionally, Alexa knows all too well the power of words. Two years after her boyfriend viciously assaulted her, she's still trying to label herself as more than simply 'his victim'. She moves to Toronto after his trial for a fresh start, but his actions and especially his words stick with her and make that impossible. Can Alexa reclaim her story and her life?

  "Fifty Million Reasons": Angela has typical lottery-player plans: help friends and family, give more to charity, and escape her rut. But when she wins big, she faces angry relatives, her own unexpected greed, and a lawsuit from the person who put her in that rut. Almost nobody treats her normally, and they've got fifty million reasons not to. She can buy anything she wants now, but can she buy the life she needs?

  I'd love to hear what you think of my work, so please feel free to visit me at http://www.heatherwardell.com and send me an email. You can also find me at http://www.facebook.com/heather.wardell.author (where you can have your say on future covers and titles if you'd like).

  Happy reading!

  Heather

  GOOD TO MYSELF

  Chapter One

  Like most people I generally found staff meetings boring at best, but the tension between me and my boss at the first meeting after Valentine's Day made me wish for the usual dullness. Every time I looked at him I relived the feel of his skillful mouth on mine, his hands on my back urging me closer, the hunger he sent through me... and the way I pulled away from him.

  Felix clearly remembered that part too, since his sexy dark eyes skimmed past mine whenever his gaze swept the meeting. He'd clearly been shocked when I ended our kiss without immediately suggesting we turn the tiny conference room next to his office into a sex den, and I'd been shocked too. I'd wanted him for months, since last summer when we'd all gone swimming at Patricia's house and the sight of him dripping wet and nearly naked had done frightening things to me, but when I'd finally had the chance I hadn't gone after him. Maybe it was just too hard to get a relationship going in February in Canada. Nobody looks hot in a parka.

  He did look hot now, though, with his dark hair as always perfectly professional but somehow still a little edgy and that tall sleek body dressed in a dark green dress shirt and black pants that hugged him like they'd loved him all their life.

  I half-listened to him discussing our web site statistics for the previous week, studied his gorgeous body, and wondered what was wrong with me. A seriously sexy guy, certainly the sexiest who'd kissed me since Damien got married, had wanted me and I'd pushed him away. Was I getting the flu or something?

  Felix finished his recital of how many times our pages had been viewed then flicked a fleeting glance at me before clearing his throat and saying, "We can do better, and I think I know how we will. It's time to replace Cassandra." His eyes moved three times, landing first on Patricia then Sasha then me, and without looking away from me he said, "For the next month, you three will be in competition with each other. The winner will take Cassandra's place as lead columnist."

  He paused as if to let that sink in, but he didn't need to since we were all fully aware of what it meant. If I replaced Cassandra I'd have a daily column with featured placement on the home page of the whole Toronto Times newspaper's web site, not just our little women's issues section, plus syndication to newspapers world-wide. We all received the same pittance of a salary then were given bonuses based on our site traffic, and being lead columnist would increase my following enough that I'd earn thousands, maybe tens of thousands, more. The extra visibility would also open lots of other doors, including the possibility of doing as Cassandra had done last month and leaving to become a TV talk-show host.

  Not to mention, I'd have first choice of the freebies sent to us for review. Felix had locked them all away when Cassandra left, and the thought of the mounds of clothes and makeup and shoes just out of my reach caused me physical pain.

  But they wouldn't stay out of reach for long. I'd wanted Cassandra's job since the day I was hired two years ago, and it was finally about to happen. I wouldn't let anything get in my way. I cleared my throat. "How does the competition work?"

  "Well, Carrie," Felix said, then waited with an evil glint in his eyes. A few months back one of our reporters had dubbed me "Canada's Carrie Bradshaw", and Felix brought it up every chance he got.

  I'd never told him I saw myself as more of a Samantha.

  I stifled a sigh, knowing what was coming, and Patricia didn't disappoint him or surprise me. "I keep telling you she's not even close to Carrie." She glanced under the table at my feet, then gave me a sweet smile with a whole grove of sour lemons behind it. "Doesn't have the shoes, for one thing."

  I smiled at Patricia, not wanting her to know her dig at my shoes had hit home. True, they had a weird texture, looking rather like they'd been covered with feathers and spray-painted black, but they had the four-inch heels I needed and at only eight bucks at the thrift shop I hadn't been able to turn them down. "I'll get all the shoes I need for free when I have Cassandra's job."

  Cassandra had bragged about not buying a single pair of shoes for herself in the four years she'd been lead columnist, and since we both had size eight feet that had stung me even more. After years of collecting fancy shoes for nothing, she could have been nice when I joined the site and let me have a pair or two. Or four.

 
"If, you mean."

  I let my smile widen, knowing Patricia would hate my confidence. "Whatever you say."

  Felix shook his head. "Patricia, Lydia, quit it. Honestly, I'm going to have to spank you."

  His eyes met mine and a shiver ran through me at the thought. So sexy. So annoying but so sexy.

  Sasha said, "Don't make me sick. So, what do we have to do?"

  Felix held my gaze for another split second, while my body replayed the effects of his kiss even though I didn't want it to because I knew he wanted it to, then he looked toward Patricia and said, "You three have four weeks to be good to yourself."

  Sasha jumped in her seat but he didn't pause long enough for her to speak if she'd been planning on it. "And, more importantly, to teach your readers how to do the same. Of course, you'll all approach this differently because you have different audiences."

  So true. I had the single women, the "Sex and the City" types who were the reason I'd picked up the Carrie nickname, both the young ones and those who like me were staring forty in the face and not sure they liked what they saw. Sasha, the stereotypically perfect wife of the perfect husband and perfect mother of the perfect little boy and girl, attracted struggling-to-be-perfect 'mommies' like a sexy guy attracted me, and Patricia and her pack of demanding seniors bonded over their expectations that the world would give them every last thing they wanted, preferably at a discount.

  "So how will you judge the results, since we'll all do it differently?"

  Felix smiled at Patricia. "Kelvin and I have it worked out, don't worry."

  The newspaper's big boss was well known to do exactly what Felix told him to do about our site, so basically Felix was saying he'd be picking the winner.

  Surely he'd pick the one he'd kissed on Valentine's Day?

  We'd both been working late, since his ex-wife didn't exactly want to spend the evening with him and I wasn't seeing anyone at the moment. Around eight, he came out of his office and fetched some vending-machine chocolate bars which he used to lure me into his little conference room for a break, where we sat and ate and flirted with increasing intensity until he leaned in and kissed me nearly senseless.

  I pushed the memory away and tried to stay focused as Patricia said, "What exactly do you want us to do?"

  Felix shook his head. "That's up to you. The idea is that you are good to yourself every second of the day and that you share that with your readers, but beyond that I'm not going to give you any guidance. To take Cassandra's place you need to be self-motivated and creative and popular with the readers, so we want to see what you come up with on your own."

  I glanced at the peppermint white chocolate mocha in front of me on the table. I was always good to myself, always giving me exactly what I wanted. This would be a cinch. And then I'd win Cassandra’s spot, and most likely a night with Felix into the bargain.

  The same confusion I'd been feeling all weekend filled me again, but now the 'good to myself' thing complicated it further. I had wanted Felix. I'd wanted him before I kissed him, and wanted him more during and after. He was a startlingly good kisser, filling my body with heat and hunger and the edgy almost-scared sense of excitement, the desire to run and stay at the same time, that I always felt with guys. It had been unusually strong with him, though, and I had no doubt that sex with him would have been incredible.

  And I could have had it. But instead I'd pulled back, panting from his kiss, and told him I wouldn't mess around with my boss. He'd stared at me, stunned, and I'd stared back the same way, then his office phone had rung and I'd made a break for it rather than coming to my senses and stripping him naked.

  Why had I not given myself what I'd wanted for so long and what would have felt so good? Why hadn't I been good to myself?

  I didn't know, but this didn't seem the right time to figure it out since the other two were still peppering Felix with questions and I should be listening so they wouldn't get information I didn't have.

  He didn't give any information, though, despite their best efforts, and while I waited for him to say something useful I noticed an absence.

  Percy wasn't there.

  Today should have been his first day of work as our site designer, and I felt sick at the thought that I might have put myself on the line to recommend my old school friend only to have him bail out of the job. He was brilliant, but scattered, and he'd run away from so many jobs and opportunities before. But he'd promised me via email that he'd be here. Maybe Felix had told him not to bother coming to the staff meeting on his first day.

  "Felix, is Percy coming in later?" I said when Sasha and Patricia momentarily paused.

  He turned to me and shook his head. Disappointment and annoyance filled me, but before they could take root he went on. "Not until Wednesday. He called Friday night," he said, giving me a significant look which told me that had been the phone call I'd used to escape the conference room, "and unfortunately his mother died unexpectedly on Thursday. Heart attack."

  "Oh, dear," Sasha breathed, and I bit my lip. I'd met his mother a few times and she'd been a lovely woman, sweet and kind and thoroughly devoted to her only child without smothering him. Poor Percy, who'd been less than a success with her support, would be lost without her.

  "The funeral was yesterday, apparently, but he has a few arrangements to take care of before he can come in."

  If I'd known I'd have gone to the funeral, but since I hadn't seen Percy for more than five years he'd probably felt weird about inviting me.

  "So how will I revise my web site until then? We haven't had a site designer for three weeks now. This is unacceptable."

  Sasha and I stared at Patricia in shock and I couldn't help saying, "Your sympathy is so touching."

  "What? I didn't know her. And I need help with my site."

  That was for damn sure. Patricia was one of those annoying people who aggressively refused to learn anything about computers, which was why we'd lost our previous site designer. After a two-hour session of trying to teach Patricia how to add a picture to an existing page, the poor guy had stormed into Felix's office and quit on the spot. I hoped Percy would be tougher but I wasn't counting on it. I'd have to make sure he helped me before Patricia made him flee.

  "Wednesday," Felix said firmly. "In the meantime, I suggest you go figure out what 'good to yourself' means to you and how you're going to live it for the next four weeks."

  Chapter Two

  Patricia's painfully slow typing and the way she muttered under her breath as she tried to work out her plan made me crazy. Sasha put on headphones and seemed to be able to stand it, but I decided to go work at Starbucks. No Patricia and lots of yummy ways to be good to myself.

  I stuffed my tiny laptop and phone into my cavernous basic black purse, and as I waited for the elevator I gave the purse a disapproving look. So boring. It was fine, perfectly functional, just like all my other purses, but just like them it wasn't what I wanted.

  What I wanted was the gorgeous baby blue purse at my favorite consignment shop. It had been there for the last six months, and so at least a few times a week I'd stood and studied it and wished it was mine. So unique, so soft and feminine, so lovely to pet with its suede fabric and plush trim... I wanted it with ferocious intensity.

  So far, I'd resisted, because of its price. Our salaries were pretty low, but livable if you were frugal. Which I was not.

  Thankfully I didn't have to find money for rent since I'd made the uncharacteristically financially savvy move of using the inheritance my grandmother left me four years ago to buy my tiny but adorable house in Toronto, so I was able to keep body and soul together and Paddington in dog food on my crummy salary, but two hundred bucks for a purse was out of my price range no matter how I tried to convince myself it wasn't.

  The elevator eventually arrived to whisk my dull black bag and I down the eight floors to the lobby, and I was soon heading down Yonge Street toward my favorite Starbucks. I'd stopped there on the way to work for the mocha I'd devoured
in the staff meeting, so I'd get another drink and with any luck I'd also get my favorite table and feel ready to work well.

  I lucked in on the table, but out on the work attitude.

  Good to yourself. There were probably as many ways to approach that concept as there were people doing the approaching, and I had to make sure my readers liked my approach.

  With one hand wrapped around a peppermint-and-vanilla latte's warm cup and the other drumming absently on the table beside my keyboard, I struggled with the puzzle. How could I turn something intensely personal into a web site for thousands of readers?

  Maybe it wasn't really that personal. Were there certain things that would be universally considered good or bad? Could my readers possibly all see it the same way? That would be far easier for me.

  I logged into our site and began writing a post.

  Good morning, lovelies! I hope you all had a great sexy weekend. New project here and I need your help.

  I leaned back in my chair. Nice start. Now what?

  For the next four weeks we're going to explore what it means to be good to yourself. I figure there are lots of different areas of life where we could stand to be good, so how's about you tell me your top three? I have my own ideas, of course, but I don't want to influence yours so you go first!

  I didn't have a single idea, but I knew that my readers liked me to appear strong and confident. They saw me as a role model, someone they could aspire to be, and they wanted me to stay that way, so I made sure I always presented myself with that in mind. I had to. My career depended on it.