The Gold Standard , livre ebook

4 Horsemen Publications, Inc. - Lynn Chantale

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51 pages

English

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Description

Pain can be pleasurable, but secrets never are.

Troy Curtis knows pain. He lives with it day in and day out. Only his daily workouts keep him sane. When he gets a new trainee at his gym, he wonders if his pain could be her pleasure.

Gold Falls needs to destress and one way of doing that is working out with a group of other VIPs. Sensing there is more to his bluster, she finds Troy’s gruff, trash-talking nature sexy and intriguing.

As their relationship heats up, a secret could tear them asunder.

Sujets

Romance

Romance multiculturelle

Fiction

Contemporary

Informations

Publié par	4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
Date de parution	13 juin 2023
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781644507889
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Table o f Contents
Dedication
Prologue
C hapter One
C hapter Two
Cha pter Three
Ch apter Four
Ch apter Five
C hapter Six
Cha pter Seven
Cha pter Eight
Epilogue
Book Club Questions
Author Bio

The Gold Standard
VIBE a Steamy Romance S eries # 8
Copyright © 2023 Lynn Chantale. All rights re served.

4 Horsemen Publicatio ns, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover & Typeset by Aut umn Skye
Edited by Bla ir Parke
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belongs to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or pu blisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 22951979
Print ISBN: 978-1-644 50-787-2
Audio ISBN: 978-1-644 50-789-6
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-644 50-788-9

Dedication
W hen I started this series, it was to show that blind/visually impaired people could do anything most sighted people can do. There are even things in the books I tried to poke humor at because these are comments or situations we face on a daily basis. You would be surprised at how often someone will say, “Oh, you don’t look blind.” Or when asked where the bathroom is someone will point and say, “Over there.” There are even times when a sighted person will try to help us sit in a chair or put our seatbelt on for us. I’ve even had someone offer to help me wipe in the bathroom. And most recently, someone asked if I needed help putting on my belt in my pants.
Yes, these are all things that have happened and will happen again. Sitting is easy; finding the chair in an unfamiliar location is a challenge. Putting on a seatbelt is easy. And most of us have been wiping our own butts since we were three. We bake, cook, clean, dress ourselves, put on makeup, raise children, hold public office, have fulfilling careers, own businesses, and guard our independence with fierceness. If you’re not sure what type of help a VIP may need, ask them. If you want to know how we do what we do, ask. Oh, and if you see one of us out and about with a guide dog, remember don’t talk or touch the guide. Doing so is a distraction, and you could potentially harm both handle r and dog.
First, thank you to everyone who helped in the making of this book, my publisher, editors, and those whose brains I picked for research. Also, I’d like to take a moment to say a special thank you to Southwest Florida Council of the Blind. They are a fantastic bunch, and I’m so glad to be able to call the m friends.
Finally, for the readers. Thank you for joining me on this journey. You have truly made it memorable.

Prologue
T roy Curtis smiled as he wheeled up next to the trim man dressed in a dark wool coat and fedora. The hat was pulled low, keeping the man’s feature shadowed. Both trailed behind a plump, older woman in a sleek navy blue pantsuit. She proffered a key to a ba rred door.
On the other side of the bars were rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling safety deposit boxes of all shapes and sizes. She held the door open, allowing Troy to propel forward; his companion stepped in behind.
Knowing the procedures from past visits, Troy wheeled toward the waist-high wood drawer, parked the handbrake on his wheelchair, and stood. Using the cabinet for additional balance, he scrawled his name on the line, then turned to the woman, ke y in hand.
She took his key and hers before inserting both into a 10x12 box on his left and just shoulder height of the bank employee. She remove d her key.
“Would you like me to remove the box or bring it into one of the privacy rooms?” sh e queried.
Troy shook his head, as he carefully made his way the scant three feet to his box. He carefully removed the container, leaving his key. With barely a sigh, he sat back down, preparing his body as pain ricocheted up and down every nerve ending in his body. He only breathed as he released the handbrake and turned his chair. They made their way to a privacy room, and Troy placed the container on the counter. He waited until the door closed before he addressed h is friend.
“Are you sure about thi s, Danta?”
His companion, Danta, loosened his scarf as he nodded, revealing full lips with a hint of a smile. “This is the only way.” He pushed his hat back.
Now Troy read a mixture of concern and sadness in the hangdog eyes. “You told me to keep this for an emergency.” He placed his hand on the closed gray-green box. “Are you sure you want to play this? There’s no go ing back.”
“Everyone who knows about this is either dead or inca rcerated.”
“Like you,” Tro y quipped.
Danta nodded. “I’m doing this to protect the one s I love.”
Troy opened the long metal flap. He sifted through his will, the deeds to his home, birth certificate, death certificates for his parents, a few mint condition baseball cards, old stamps, coins, a gold brick, several silver and platinum bars no bigger than a bar of complimentary hotel soap, and, finally, to the small, padded envelope. He hesitated for just a moment before removing two of the s mall bars.
“If you’re really in trouble, you’ll need this.” He pressed the metals into Dan ta’s palm.
He smiled. “You’re good family, Troy, but I have enough.” Carefully, Danta returned the metal to the box, but pocketed the envelope.
“I thought the guy you were dating was some sor t of cop.”
“Private investigator,” Danta clarified.
“And he can’t help you?”
“He is, has and does.” Danta readied the scarf around his face, then tilted the hat to cover the rest of his face. “He’s got babies due any day, and I don’t want to be responsible for bringing any more heat to hi s family.”
Troy closed the lid, before placing the box on his lap once more. “If the heat dies down, will you be back?”
“Missing me already?”
Troy chuckled. “You’re all the family I have left. I wouldn’t even be in this chair if not for you,” referring to the car accident that left Troy in cons tant pain.
Danta shook his head. “You’d have made it where you are without me.” Danta opened the door, which Troy rolled through first. Upon seeing them exit, the bank employee rose from her seat behind a long curved counter, walked through a chest-height locked door, and met them at the entrance to the safety deposit box vault.
This time, Troy handed the woman his box. She returned it to its spot, closed the door, and then returned to hi m his key.
“Thank you, Virginia,” Troy called as he rolled from the vault.
“My pleasure.”
Together, he and Danta moved from the bank into the blustery cold of winter in Ann Arbor. They paused on the sidewalk adjacent to the pa rking lot.
“If there’s anything I can do, you let me know,” Troy said, his warm breath misted in the cold air.
Danta nodded. “I will, cousin. Stay safe an d thanks.”
As Troy rolled to his vehicle, a full-sized SUV modified with hand controls, he observed his cousin walking to the opposite end of the parking lot. He watched as Danta pulled the envelope from his pocket, opened it, and slid out something wrapped in silver foil. Troy squinted. Is that a stick of ch ewing gum?
Standing, Troy folded his wheelchair and stowed it in the back. Slowly, he walked to the driver’s side door and slid gratefully into the still warm leat her seats.
Why would his cousin have him store a piece of chewing gum in his de posit box?

C hapter One
T he sweet aroma of chocolate, cinnamon, and warm yeast greeted Troy as he rolled into PB & J Bakery. A bald black man, in a pale blue apron emblazoned with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the bib, offered a quick nod of acknowledgment as he slid several cherry- and chocolate-topped cupcakes into a waiting box. Troy returned the greeting as he waited his turn.
He perused the glass cases full of cookies, cupcakes, individual pies, cakes, and other pastries as he waited. By the time it was his turn, Troy had his choices narrowed down to a crème brûlée and a couple of the chocolate c roissants.
“ Hey Troy.”
“Avery!” he greeted. “How’s it going?”
Avery Cheathams grinned. “Great if I could keep my wife out the kitchen,” he said loud enough for a red-haired and very pregnant woma n to hear.
“Penelope, i t’s Troy.”
Penelope placed a tray of chocolate and fruit tarts on the top of the case.
“Hi Troy.” She blew a wisp of hair from her face. “I miss coming to class.”
“Miss having y ou there.”
“You were only supposed to work on Geneva’s cake, not plate the desserts,” Avery a dmonished.
“Sweetheart, you’re shorthanded in the kitchen.” Opening the display case door, she hesitated and then traded an empty tray for the full one. “See. Easy-peasy.” Clutching the empty tray to her bulging middle, Penelope waddled back through the swinging dou ble doors.
Avery shook his head. “The woman will be the dea th of me.”
“She loo ks great.”
“The important thing is she’s happy,” Avery told him.
A pang of longing filled Troy. He wished he had a woman he could love as much as Avery obviously did Penelope. For a