Love Connections

By Laro Claitty

When Dexter Reed, a railroad consulting executive, returns to the DMV for his rocketing career, he leaves behind the woman he loves--who, by the way, never wants to see him again.  Architect Aubrey Sanders is heartbroken over the callous way Reed leaves her life, and vows that she will move on.  He never dreamed, however, that she

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ladero Press LLC
• Release date: Feb 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781946981103

Laro Claitty

LARO CLAITTY is a pseudonym. As the author has published articles and presentations under her given name, for fiction writing she has chosen to use a pen name. Laro's fiction work is published under Ladero Press. ​ Reading and writing have always been a part of Laro's life. Some of her earliest and fondest memories are related to listening to her mother read to her and her younger sister and brother. Those times with her mother and siblings ignited a passion for books and reading that has yet to abate. A consultant for almost two decades, Laro is known for her use of pencils. She is always using pencils to make note of ideas and storylines. Excited about the publishing of her new work of fiction, HOT ENOUGH TO MELT CHOCOLATE, Laro Claitty is awaiting opportunity to personally connect with readers and share in the joys of the written word.

Book preview

Love Connections, An East Coast

West Coast Series Short Story

Laro Claitty

Ladero Press

Published by Ladero Press

229 Kettering Road

Deltona, Florida

First Ladero Press Online Publishing, January 2018

Love Connections

Copyright © LaShalonda D. Robinson, 2018

All rights reserved. Printed in U.S.A.

ISBN 978-1-946981-10-3

Released for online consumption only, unless changed in these notes by the Publisher, Ladero Press

Cover Designed by LaShalonda Robinson

Edited by Polish Your Pen Editing Services

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission, or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, save for the permission stated above for online consumption, is forbidden without written permission. For permission, please contact Ladero Press Editors at [e-mail]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

www.laderopress.com

www.laroclaitty.com

Contents

Prologue

1. Blame It on Me

2. Heart Fumbles

3. Coming of Age

4. Fool for You

5. You Changed Me

6. The Highest High

7. Love Connections

Epilogue

Author's Note

Prologue

The breakup was bad. I mean the I-can’t-help-but-gasp-at-the-mere-passing-thought-of-her-name-much-less-an-entire-intentionally-cultivated-thought bad. Yep, that kind of bad.

Perhaps those who say men don’t hurt have not met a real man. We do hurt. We do cry. Life brings some crazy stuff sometimes, and while we may man up, we have to occasionally pause and deal with our emotions. Some of that stuff often has to do with women. Nah, a woman. For me, that woman is Aubrey Sanders.

I messed up.

As my cousin Jackson had repeatedly reminded me, I royally messed up. Well, he actually said, Dex, that is some jacked up… in his outspoken way of communicating.

Jacks could go on and on when he had something he wanted to talk about. Lately, all he wanted to talk about was how I managed to leave—in his words— that fine behind Aubrey Sanders in Seattle.

He was right. No, he is right.

I messed up.

But I was not done.

Blame It on Me

I do not have anyone to blame for the state of things except myself, Dexter Channing Reed. I may be an accomplished, good-looking, simpatico executive about town, but I’m in a pickle. I left the woman I love in Seattle to return to the DMV for a promotion. My life has not been the same since I left the Pacific Northwest —kind of empty actually. You know, like that I-just-had-Chinese-food-for-dinner-but-am-still-hungry-and-want-something-else-to-eat feeling. The quick takeout just isn’t as fulfilling as a good, southern soul food meal that sticks to a man’s ribs and knocks him out for a few hours, and I’m to blame.

Her name is Aubrey Sanders, and she was once again the subject of conversation between me and my cousins, Jackson Reed and Janet Reed, as we sat around and dissected my love life.

You’re an idiot, declared Jacks. The shortened version of Jackson’s name was given to him as a kid by one of his family’s neighbors and somehow the moniker stuck.

Idiot? That is much too kind for him, Jacks, Janet chimed in. I don’t even know how he is related to us. Such stupidity does not characterize the awesome intelligence of us Reeds. Your parents need to disown your trifling, non-thinking, selfish, ain’t got a clue if you could buy one a—