Table of Contents
Doin’ a Dime
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale
Blurb
Prologue
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
Epilogue I
Epilogue II
What’s Next?
Text copyright ©2021 Lani Lynn Vale
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
One day I’m going to know what to put here. One day, it’s just gonna flow. Today’s not that day. Today is a low carb day. Today, I need a damn nap, STAT.
<3
Acknowledgments
Golden Czermak - Photographer
My Brother’s Editor & Ink It Out Editing- My editors
Cover Me Darling - Cover Artist
My mom - Thank you for reading this book eight million two hundred times.
Kendra, Lisa, Laura, Brandi, Jen, Penney, Kathy, Mindy, Barbara & Amanda—I don’t know what I would do without y’all. Thank you, my lovely betas, for loving my books as much as I do.
Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale
The Freebirds
Boomtown
Highway Don’t Care
Another One Bites the Dust
Last Day of My Life
Texas Tornado
I Don’t Dance
The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC
Lights To My Siren
Halligan To My Axe
Kevlar To My Vest
Keys To My Cuffs
Life To My Flight
Charge To My Line
Counter To My Intelligence
Right To My Wrong
Code 11- KPD SWAT
Center Mass
Double Tap
Bang Switch
Execution Style
Charlie Foxtrot
Kill Shot
Coup De Grace
The Uncertain Saints
Whiskey Neat
Jack & Coke
Bad Apple
Dirty Mother
Rusty Nail
The Kilgore Fire Series
Shock Advised
Flash Point
Oxygen Deprived
Controlled Burn
Put Out
I Like Big Dragons Series
I Like Big Dragons and I Cannot Lie
Dragons Need Love, Too
Oh, My Dragon
The Dixie Warden Rejects
Beard Mode
Fear the Beard
Son of a Beard
I’m Only Here for the Beard
The Beard Made Me Do It
Beard Up
For the Love of Beard
Law & Beard
There’s No Crying in Baseball
Pitch Please
Quit Your Pitchin’
Listen, Pitch
The Hail Raisers
Hail No
Go to Hail
Burn in Hail
What the Hail
The Hail You Say
Hail Mary
The Simple Man Series
Kinda Don’t Care
Maybe Don’t Wanna
Get You Some
Ain’t Doin’ It
Too Bad So Sad
Bear Bottom Guardians MC
Mess Me Up
Talkin’ Trash
How About No
My Bad
One Chance, Fancy
It Happens
Keep It Classy
Snitches Get Stitches
F-Bomb
The Southern Gentleman Series
Hissy Fit
Lord Have Mercy
KPD Motorcycle Patrol
Hide Your Crazy
It Wasn’t Me
I’d Rather Not
Make Me
Sinners are Winners
If You Say So
SWAT 2.0
Just Kidding
Fries Before Guys
Maybe Swearing Will Help
Ask Me If I Care
May Contain Wine
Joke’s on You
Join the Club
Any Day Now
Say it Ain’t So
Officially Over It
Nobody Knows
Depends Who’s Asking
Valentine Boys
Herd That
Crazy Heifer
Chute Yeah
Get Bucked
Souls Chapel Revenants
Repeat Offender
Conjugal Visits
Jailbait
Doin’ a Dime
Kitty Kitty
Gen Pop
Inmate of the Month
Shakedown
For a complete updated list visit: www.lanilynnvale.com
Blurb
Live-in property & pet caretaker needed. Four-year minimum. Background check required. Generous compensation. Marriage of convenience required.
The moment that Wyett Villin read the ad on her local community page, she knew that it would be perfect. It didn’t matter how big the house was, what kinds of animals she had to take care of, or what the compensation was. She didn’t give a flip as long as it got her out of her childhood home and away from the person that she despised the most.
Only, she had no clue that by accepting the position, she would be agreeing to watch over the mini-mansion and two large dogs of Hunt McJimpsey, computer hacker extraordinaire, sexy nerd, and convicted felon of Souls Chapel, Texas.
She meant to make her life easier, not complicate it more.
• • •
Hunt McJimpsey was careful. He knew exactly what he was doing, and practically planned every single step that he took to make sure that he always had his tracks covered.
But one single mistake costs him ten years of his life, and if he’s going to go down for the crime, he might as well make it spectacular.
Three years into his prison sentence, he’s a changed man, and definitely not for the better. He’s harder, angrier, and even more brilliant and conniving than before he went in.
He thinks that by keeping up with his dogs’ babysitter, his property caretaker, and reluctant wife, that he’s only doing his due diligence as a responsible person. Only, what starts out as curiosity about what’s going on with his property turns into genuine like for the woman that is caring for what means the most to him.
When an opportunity to get out of the hellhole known as prison arises, and the only thing he has to do is join a motorcycle club and sign some of his free time away to help those less fortunate, he jumps at the chance.
Not only because he’s ready to get the hell out of prison, but because he’s ready to meet the woman that he’s been falling for, one visit a month, for the last three years
.
PROLOGUE
Hackers gonna hack.
-Coffee cup
HUNT
Four years ago
“Oh, sorry.”
I blinked, surprised to find myself staring into dark brown eyes.
“No problem,” I murmured, my day all but forgotten as I looked down into her eyes. My gaze traveled over her face.
She had really long eyelashes. Like, so long that I wondered if they were fake.
If I reached forward and grabbed them, would they come off in my hand?
I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Are your eyelashes real?” I blurted.
Most people would be turned off immediately by my bluntness.
I’d found, over time, that my blatant disregard for propriety didn’t endear me to many people, especially women that were asked about whether their eyelashes were fake or not.
“Yeah,” she said. “They are. Why? Do they not look real?”
“They’re so long that they kind of make me think that they’re not. Can I pull them?” I found myself asking.
So I didn’t interact with people all that much.
I thrived behind a computer. When I was out in public, among the human population, I found myself being awkward, annoying, and overbearing.
People did not like me in real life.
Something in which I had been told multiple times today.
“Sure.” She grinned. “Go ahead.”
When I reached forward and did just that, I think she was surprised.
Did she think that I was kidding?
But the only thing to come off when I reached for her eyelashes was a bit of mascara and one tiny hair.
I looked down at it on my calloused finger, made a wish, and blew it off.
When I opened my eyes again, she was walking away, sipping her coffee as she did.
My eyes took in the rest of her as she swayed her hips to and fro.
She was short. Well, not really short. More of a regular-sized woman, if I had to admit. But she was short compared to my six-foot-four.
She looked over her shoulder, and the movement caused her highlighted brown hair to slip over her shoulder and fall in a wave down her back. It almost reached mid-shoulder. Not super long, but not short, either.
She grinned at me, and I was struck again by her eyes.
Her eyes were the most gorgeous shade of brown I’d ever seen—like my favorite type of chocolate—and they were covered by the longest eyelashes that I’d ever had the chance to pull.
Weird.
I was so weird.
Normal people didn’t have these thoughts, right?
I grinned at her, and she grinned back.
She didn’t realize it, but she was about to be seeing me again.
I immediately went home, hacked into the public library, and then went even further to not only find the computer she was working on, but her name, date of birth, and any and all relevant information that would be needed for what I had in mind.
I was deep in the middle of looking into her when my phone rang.
I absently reached for it and picked it up, placing it against my ear.
“Hello?” I mumbled distractedly.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me the moment that you got out of that courtroom,” my mother groaned. “Well, what happened?”
“I was given a plea deal,” I answered. “Ten years in prison with the possibility of parole at four.”
Her gasp made me roll my eyes.
“You have to go to prison, and you didn’t think that was information that I needed to hear?” she shrieked.
Okay, so I might should have called her.
But what difference did it make if she knew or not?
I would still have to go!
“I thought I’d tell you over dinner before I had to leave,” I admitted.
The less time that I had to deal with my family, the better.
They were all overprotective assholes who thought they knew better than me.
And honestly, maybe that was the case. Maybe they did know better than I did.
I didn’t know.
But I was allowed to make my own damn mistakes.
Which, apparently, they didn’t understand.
Would never understand.
“You thought you’d tell me over dinner…” She started saying something more, but I’d gotten into the good stuff about the girl. “Was this on the night that you were supposed to turn yourself into jail?”
I blinked, pulling myself out of the girl’s life long enough to respond to my mother’s question.
“Yes,” I said. “I go six months from now. That was the stipulation that I made with the prosecutor and the district attorney that I met with today. That I have enough time to get my affairs in order.”
She started talking some more about how unfair it was—it was—and I went back to looking into the girl.
I liked what I saw.
She wasn’t behind on her bills. She was up to date on her shots. She volunteered at an animal shelter. She went to school full-time and was always home according to her security camera feeds.
She did have a problem with her aunt, though. That I could tell very easily as I looked through her financials.
Twice a month, her aunt wired very large lump sums—fifty grand a pop—into two separate accounts. One that was in town and on the up and up, and another that was off shore, protected.
Well… it would be protected if she hadn’t had me looking into her.
Now, the idea of her taking money out of that account irked me.
Who was she? Was she a good person?
I wasn’t sure that she was.
Based on the attorney information I was able to pull up thirty minutes later, seems ol’ batshit crazy aunt would be kicked to the curb soon. If the girl—Wyett Alara Villin—had anything to say about it.
Well, I had something to say about it.
But first, I had a few things to do.
She would be perfect.
Thinking quickly, I went through everything, and composed an online ad just for her.
I’d post it to the ad sites around social media—but only she would be the one to see it.
Other applicants need not reply. I was only wanting one.
Live-in property & pet caretaker needed. Four-year minimum. Background check required. Generous compensation. Marriage of convenience required.
My eyes scanned the ad that I’d placed in the document.
Then searched for any hidden errors but found none.
This would work.
I knew it would.
I’d carefully selected one candidate. I’d narrowed it down from four to one.
I knew, without a doubt, it would work. I just had to set this up where it would be a perfect solution for her. Therefore, I was waiting for her to turn twenty-five when I knew she was going to take steps against her aunt.
“Listen, Mom,” I said. “I have to go. I have some things to do. Talk to you later. Bye.”
CHAPTER 1
What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever broken. If you say condom, you’re going to hell.
-Wyett’s secret thoughts
WYETT
“You are seriously the most selfish little bitch I’ve ever met,” my aunt Stella sneered. “I gave you a roof over your head. I gave you food and care when you needed it most. I gave you a life, Wyett.”
“You sent me to boarding school on my dead parents’ dime,” I countered. “That doesn’t fucking count.”
“Language,” she hissed.
My brows rose. “So, you’re allowed to say ‘bitch’ but I’m not allowed to say ‘fucking?’”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m allowed to say whatever the hell I want, because I’m the elder here. You’re just a little pissy girl who doesn’t like when she doesn’t get her way.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Is that what you think?”
“
That’s what I know,” Stella countered.
I was already shaking my head.
“Here’s what I’m really mad about,” I said, leaning forward on the couch that Stella had purchased with my parents’ life insurance policies. “I know that you wouldn’t have anything in this house if it wasn’t for my parents.”
Stella’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
It was true, too.
My parents’ will stated that in the event of their death, I was supposed to go to my uncle Deighton. Only, they hadn’t planned on my uncle being with them when they died. They also never expected my aunt Stella to crawl out of the hidey hole she’d been brooding in for ten years because of some ‘slight’ my dad had made against her and petition my mom’s best friend for custody of me.
Because, if they had, they would’ve gone above and beyond to name my mom’s best friend, Andromeda, as custodian of me in the event that my uncle Deighton died.
Except, they hadn’t expected Stella to give a shit.
Only, watching over me and taking me into her care also meant that I came with a shit ton of money, money which Stella did want.
Needless to say, Stella’s lavish lifestyle was something in which she relished.
Something in which I’d had no choice but to allow because I didn’t have control over my trust funds until the age of twenty-five.
But, as of this morning at twelve, I was now not only twenty-five years old, but I was also kicking her ass to the curb.
At least, I was trying to, anyway.
She wasn’t taking too kindly to the change.
She stared at the lawyer’s papers that I’d had drafted up at the age of twenty-two and had perfected over the last three years.
It was, I hoped, iron clad.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said.
I didn’t fucking care.
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’ve so graciously given you six months to find a place to live.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t have a job,” she countered.
This is probably the part where I should feel really sorry about the fact that I’m kicking my jobless aunt out of my house. But I didn’t feel sorry, not one single bit.