Hunger: A Forbidden Romance

By S.E. Law

Britney lives in a trailer park. When her brother loses his job during the pandemic, they’re left hungry and starved for food. She needs calories, and there’s one place in town to get it.

John’s the billionaire owner of a grocery chain. He feeds many, employs more, and basically runs the local economy. But when a desperate girl comes knocking at his door, his mind goes into overdrive because he’s willing to make a trade: food, in return for the luscious woman’s curves.

We’re waaaaay out in left field here as an alpha male prepares to barter with an innocent girl in desperate straits. John’s going to feed Britney, but it’s going to be with more than just steak because his dirty deal involves a pregnancy and a baby for the curvy girl! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.E. Law Romance Author
• Release date: Jan 3, 2021

Book preview

1

Britney

---

The door to our shabby trailer opens, and in walks my older brother, Joey.

Hey, how was work? I ask, not bothering to look up from the textbook in my lap. Even though school is online now, I still have to study if I want to graduate this year. I was supposed to be finishing my senior year at Corona High with my friends right now. But instead, I’m stuck in this trailer, unable to leave except for emergencies.

Joey is quiet. I finally look up and take in my brother’s appearance. He looks tired and worn out. Ever since our parents died in an accident two years ago, my brother has been looking out for me. He makes sure there’s a roof over my head, food on the table, and that I’m emotionally okay given the tragedy. But I think it’s starting to get to him. His shoulders are slumped, his expression downcast, and frankly, my brother’s never looked this bad before.

Joey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?

A million scenarios run through my mind. Is he sick? I can’t survive without him. I may be eighteen, but I’m still in high school. No one out there is hiring right now, much less young girls who haven’t graduated yet.

Unfortunately, my parents didn’t leave us with much. My family used to be okay, but we weren’t rich, and almost all of my parents’ savings went to their funeral expenses. I didn’t know how much a funeral cost until we had to plan one for our mom and dad. They didn’t have life insurance because they were young. Why would they prepare for the end of their lives when they thought they had many years left to go? It was something best left for later, when we’d have more.

My heart clenches with pain. Our family was a tight knit group. We would hold game nights every Friday, even when Joey and I were too old for that kind of thing. It was fun, even if playing Charades with your folks seems antiquated and downright boring.

But now, I miss those family game nights more than anything. We haven’t had one since my parents passed, and all of the old games are still piled up under my bed. They’re among the few items we were able to take from our old house, mostly because no one wanted them.

Before we sold the house, we had a garage sale and tried to get rid of as many things as possible. Part of it is because we knew we were moving into a trailer, and wouldn’t have much space. But the other part is because Joey and I needed the money. Selling the house bought us a few months reprieve, and we used the proceeds to put a down payment on this trailer. Even though it’s shabby and run-down, it works. My brother and I are simple people, and don’t need much, although it would be nice to have consistent running water and electricity. The hook-ups here are awful, and I want to scream at management some days.

But today, something’s wrong. My brother stands still in the doorway, his mechanic coveralls half-unzipped, revealing the Corona Auto T-shirt he always wears underneath.

Joey, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? I ask.

He turns to me with zombie-like eyes, and a chill runs down my spine. What’s happened? But then he jerks alive, and nods.

Sorry. Everything’s fine, Britney. Don’t worry about it.

I stare at him.

We both know that’s not true, Joey. Tell me what’s happening. I’m not a kid anymore, and you don’t need to protect me.

Joey sighs. Corona Auto shut down today because of the pandemic. No one’s bringing their cars in right now.

Oh no. My heart drops.

Shit, I murmur. I’m sorry, Joey.

I can’t say I’m surprised, though. The pandemic that’s happening right now is absolutely crazy. Everything seems to be shut, and most people are locked inside their houses, afraid to even open the door. I don’t blame them. I’m scared too, and even grocery stores will likely close soon.

But this leaves us with a huge problem because Joey’s salary pays our rent, not to mention food and bills. What are we going to do?

Do you know when they’ll reopen? Did they say anything about paying you in the meantime?

Joey shakes his head.

Damien has no idea when they’ll be allowed to reopen, but without any business coming in, they can’t afford to pay me. He gave me fifty bucks on my way out and a slap on the back. I get it. He doesn’t have anything either, but it just sucks. I don’t know what we’re going to do. Do you still have that old piggy bank?

I gape at him.

You mean the pink one I got for my tenth birthday?

My brother looks down but then he nods.

Yeah, I’m sorry, Britney. We really have nothing, so anything will help. I’m even tempted to look under the couch cushions for spare change.

I swallow heavily around the lump in my throat.

I’ll check my piggy bank, but I don’t think there’s more than fifty bucks in there total. I haven’t added money in ages.

He nods and looks down again, his expression somber.

Thanks, Brit.

I can’t take it anymore. We’ve suffered so much trauma together, and now, things are getting worse. Instinctively, I get up and throw my arms around Joey’s shoulders. He’s stiff for a moment, but then his shoulders slump and he hugs me back.

Soon, I realize that we’re both crying because what options do we have? We’re orphans, with no close family. Joey himself is only twenty-two, barely out of childhood. He should be living life, acting irresponsibly, and enjoying himself, but instead, my brother works his fingers to the bone to support our family.

But now, everything’s turned around. We have nothing, and even more distressing, we have no way of making our situation better.

There’s a homeless shelter a few towns over. Will we need to move there? Can I bring the games under my bed? My heart breaks because it’s unlikely. I’ll probably only be able to pack a small bag, and we’ll lose the last ties we have to our old life.

Joey sits down on the couch and covers his face with his hands. I take the spot next to him, wrapping my arm around his shoulder.

We’re going to be okay, I tell him bravely, although my voice wavers. How about unemployment? You qualify for that, right?

Joey takes a deep breath.

I’m not sure actually. Damien was paying me off the books so I actually don’t think I qualify.

I sit back, stumped.

Well, then how about the stimulus check that everyone says is coming? The one for people who make less than a certain amount per year?

Again, my brother shakes his head, suddenly appearing ten years older.

Britney, those are for people who filed taxes last year. You and I didn’t make enough, so we didn’t file. I don’t think we’re going to get that either.

My heart contracts, and I look down at my hands. Another tear slips down my cheek, and my brother takes my hand.

Hey hey hey, he says, squeezing my palm. Things are going to be okay.

I turn tear-stained eyes to him.

But how?

His head hangs, and his expression is defeated. But then Joey looks up.

I don’t want you worrying about this, Brit. You need to focus on school, and your classes. You only have a couple of months left to go, and you know that after that, you’ll be going to college. You’re smart, Brit. You deserve better.

I smile wanly through my tears.

It’s just community college, and I don’t know if high school is even going to stay open. If things are as bad as they seem, maybe even Corona High will close, and no one will graduate.

My brother squeezes my hand again, his gaze faraway for a moment. But then he turns back to me.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, Brit, but we’ll make it out of this together. Okay? Remember what Mom and Dad used to say? Even this too shall pass?

I nod.

Yeah, but it just seems like things keep piling on top of one another. Mom and Dad and the accident, and then we had to move, sell all our things, and now this.

My brother doesn’t have an answer for me. He merely looks down again, his face lined and weary.

We’re going to be okay, he says in a low voice, even if his tone is helpless. Trust me, Britney.

And then, we sit in silence for a while because what choice do we have? My brother and I are survivors, but the pandemic may be our undoing.

2

Britney

---

Iwake up to Joey fumbling around our trailer. The walls are paper thin, so sound carries.

Joey’s room is across the hall from me. It’s technically called the master bedroom, but it’s barely bigger than mine. We share a tiny bathroom that has a stall the size of a small box, and there’s a kitchenette outside that’s flush with our living room, which is really just a raggedy sofa and coffee table jammed too close together.

Joey’s in the so-called living room right now, fumbling around with something or other. What is he doing? I yawn and rub my eyes, climbing out of bed. I find my brother outside with a handful of reusable grocery bags crumpled in one hand. His shoes are on, with his jacket thrown over one shoulder.

Where are you going? I ask. It’s early.

His eyes don’t meet mine.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, Brit. Go back to sleep.

I yawn again, stretching in my comfy moon-and-cloud pajamas.

It’s fine. I was going to get up, anyways.

He shakes his head again.

It’s only seven. Go back to bed, Brit.

But I’m awake now, and I squint at him blearily, taking in the bags in his hand.

But where are you headed? Is there even anything open right now?

He looks down, his face expressionless.

I’m going to the food bank, Brit, Joey says in a quiet voice. We usually go Tuesdays, but I want to start going twice a week because food is getting scarce. A lot of people are hurting, and I want to get there early before things run out.

My heart swoops and then plummets.

Oh yeah, I say quietly. Of course.

With that, my brother leaves without another word, his rangy form going down the stairs to our old, rusted truck. He gets into the car, waves goodbye at me through the windshield, and then pulls away.

I stare at the quiet trailer park for a moment. The first rays of the sun are coming out, casting the landscape in pink and yellow rays. The dried grass is a gleaming golden color, and birds chirp merrily, even if most of the trailers are rusty and decrepit. How did we get to this place? How do we get ourselves out?

Shaking my head, I go back inside, my heart heavy. I grab a glass of water and bring it to the coffee table in the living room. Coffee would be nice, but it’s a luxury we haven’t been able to afford in a while. As a result, I’ll be making do with good old H2O in the meantime.

My ancient laptop sits on the coffee table, and it makes a loud whirring sound when I pick it up. It was my mom’s and it’s probably four years old now, which is ancient in laptop years. But I have no choice but to use it for my remote-learning classes.

Luckily for me, my neighbor, Sunny McDougal, has wifi that isn’t locked. The connection isn’t great, but it works, and I log into her sunnyday wifi without a password. Good. I think she knows that I’m bumming off of her connection, but she’s too nice to say anything about it.

I click into my school’s portal, and look over the updates. Since it’s the last semester of my senior year, I’m