Stolen by Lauren Barnholdt, Aaron Gorvine Read Free Book Online

THE
    WITCHES OF SANTA ANNA, COMING
    SOON…

    And turn the page for a free bonus book –
    EMBERS, Book One of the Playing With Fire
    series of novellas

    EMBERS (Playing With Fire #1)

    By Lauren Barnholdt & Aaron Gorvine
    Copyright 2011, Lauren Barnholdt and Aaron Gorvine, all rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this text may be reproduced without written permission of the authors.

Chapter One

    Emily
    This vacation is not off to a good start. I’ve been in the backseat of my parents’
    car for five hours, and my iPod died after the first two. Which means that for the past three hours, I’ve been subjected to listening to whatever my dad put on the car radio (read: 1940s jazz music, or political talk radio.) After the first hour, I was getting antsy. I’d finished my book (ending = the destined-to-be couple got together, despite all odds), and it was getting hot in the backseat. By the third hour, I was so bored I was actually considering pulling out the travel Scrabble and playing a game. Against myself.
    I know I shouldn’t be complaining. And normally, I wouldn’t be. Normally, I’d be super excited about going away to the Cape, spending the summer by the beach, relaxing, working on my tan, and forgetting about the stresses of home. But this summer isn’t normal. This summer is completely different. This summer, I actually have someone to stay home for.
    “We’re here,” my dad announces from the front seat. I look up from rereading the best parts of the book I just finished, and my jaw drops.
    “This is the house we’re staying in?” I ask in disbelief. I was picturing a tiny cottage, with crumbling shutters and a ramshackle fence in need of some paint. But this house… this house is huge. It’s sprawling and new, with cream-colored siding, a neatly manicured lawn, and huge sparkling windows. Rose bushes line either side of the granite steps, and a neat white fence separates the back from the front.
    “Yup,” my dad says, sounding proud of himself. He slides the car into park. In the passenger seat, my mom pushes her sunglasses up on her forehead and peers through the windshield.
    “It’s gorgeous,” she says. “I think we should all get in the pool and worry about unpacking later.”
    “It has a pool?” I’m out of the car now, shielding my eyes from the sun as I stare up the driveway toward the house. “How the hell can we afford a place like this?” I demand. My parents are not rich. They’re not poor, either, but money has always been tight. In fact, this is the first family vacation I can remember us taking since I was a little kid. And even then we always stayed in cheap motels and ate most of our meals at Burger King.
    My phone beeps with a text before I can get any explanation regarding our financial situation. I pull it out of my bag.
    Gabe.
    “miss u already”
    I swallow around the lump in my throat. I don’t care about the pool anymore. Or the fact that the house we’re staying in is so big. I don’t care about anything except the fact that I just want to go home.

    ***
    Once we’re inside, my parents immediately head upstairs to drop their bags off in the master bedroom, but I leave mine on the floor in the middle of the front hall. I’m hoping they get the message. The message being, “Oh, look, you brought me here and made me leave my boyfriend, so now I’m going to refuse to put my stuff away.” It’s ridiculous and childish and bratty and I kind of don’t care.
    Once I’ve made my big statement, I don’t really know what else to do with myself, so I wander through the huge kitchen and into the backyard.
    I’m getting myself all worked up, wondering how my parents could do this to me, and so at first, I don’t see him. The guy. He’s cleaning the huge, inground pool, and he looks up when I come outside, his eyes meeting mine.
    “Oh,” I say,