Cappy In the Big Apple: Crowns of Chaos MC Series

By JA Lafrance

Do you know how hard it is to be a forty-year-old woman looking for Mr. Right in a sea of Mr. Oh So Wrong?

Jane navigates through the elaborate world of online dating sites, only to be disappointed and left wondering; will she find the one?

Until Cappy walks into her life and turns it upside down, on the one hand, Cappy makes her see how perfect she is, and in the next, she has been torn apart and left for broke.

Will it be too late for Cappy to fix his mistakes in time, or will Jane walk away?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: JA Lafrance
• Release date: Dec 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201063528

JA Lafrance

JA resides in Northern Ontario Canada but is originally from the Capital of Ontario.She is married to her loving husband and has three beautiful children.When she is not locked in her writing cave she works with the board of education as a supply Educational Assistant.She loves watching hockey and Soccer and enjoys talking to the many people she has made friends with.She enjoys a good joke and can usually be seen with a smile on her face and a joke on her lips.

Book preview

Prologue

~Jane~

Life gives us situations that make you wonder, what the hell else can it throw at you? Like the fact that my mom got diagnosed at the young age of forty-nine with multiple sclerosis. A disease that moved so rapidly through her petite body that it left her wheelchair-bound with so much sass and determination that she makes a prized boxer look like a newbie.

That same life will give you moments of utter bliss, combined with moments of utter chaos. But the complete ecstasy of having a strong connection with someone, that even just the mention of their name has you smiling from ear to ear.

My life didn’t contain any of these moments; it has been one big moment of complete insanity. I mean, I have had happy moments, but nothing like having someone to love you for who you are. There is always the notion of trying to change me.

I am Jane, a forty-year-old woman who has not had one single romantic endeavor last longer than the first sexual encounter, and most of those you only hear about when your favorite romance authors rights about the weird sex their characters have.

I know what you’re thinking; it’s because I’m not all that great between the sheets and that I should just stop having sex altogether.

My response, Screw you! You try and go months with a plastic dick and fake tongue. There is nothing like feeling the heat from a human tongue or a nice hard cock dragging the pleasure from your body as you chase the orgasm train.

I could say that maybe they were the bad ones, that they couldn’t find a vagina entrance with a map and a miner’s cap, but then again, it may just be that my skills at choosing the right partner are crap.

How can that many guys not know where to stick that hard meat between their legs? Come on, guys of the world, your hard part goes in my soft part. If it’s a tighter fit, you’re in the rear. It’s that simple!

My mom always tells me that I need to be patient and let the sparks fester with one man. Then I look at her, sitting in a wheelchair, fighting for her life as MS ravages her tiny body, and wonder if maybe my time is coming. I wonder if, at the age of forty-nine, I’ll be the one bound to a wheelchair while an autoimmune disease literally eats its way through my central nervous system.

I always ask her when she last had a dick, follow it up by calling her old woman and telling her to just be happy that I am getting some and not stocking up on batteries and Vaseline. Which reminds me, I do need new batteries and lube.

She usually rolls her eyes and then states something along the lines of, In my day, we had to flutter our eyes and wiggle our hips to get the men to notice. She just doesn’t get it. Today, people searching for Mr. or Mrs. Right are looking for something deep and meaningful or a right here, right now type of thing.

I would have loved to see my mom before the onset of MS. She has the fifties-style pinup girl look. Once you look past the droop of her mouth and how her one eyelid hangs just a little bit slower than the other one, you’ll see just how truly beautiful she is.

My mom never wants to be seen for her disease. She has always been sassy and independent, so telling me what to do is as easy as watching her smile and something I will always allow to happen. No matter how many times she says it.

I always smile at her and say Ma, if you flutter your eyes, they will offer you eye drops and tell you to take better care of your eyes or ask if your contact is loose. That comment usually makes her snort. Or, Ma, if you wiggle your hips, they ask if you wore proper shoes, then harp on you that having proper footwear would help bigger girls like me with better posture. That usually makes her go off on another type of rant about how people are too hung up on weight when sexy is a mindset.

Fuck that shit; guys nowadays want two things—fast food and even faster sex. They don’t want the deep and meaningful kind of love.

I work for one of the bigger companies here and enjoy dressing up and flashing off my curves. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the comments and disrespect of how I look from over half of the staff in the building. Many of the women I work with spend their days off, focusing on working out or eating properly. Don’t get me wrong, to each their own. I love having the free time to explore who I am, dance, and just enjoy life as we know it.

My best friend, Jason, always says, It’s not that they think it’s wrong for you to dress sexy as fuck. It’s that they’re jealous that you can pull off any outfit you wear with finesse and class while they look cheap and slutty.

I know he’s right, but how many times can a girl hear how ugly she is before that negativity sets deep within her soul and she starts believing that she is what they’re saying.

It’s that negativity that started me on this journey of banging everything that captured my attention. Maybe it was wrong of me to start this journey, but you know what? Sometimes to feel better, you just have to act out.

Lucky thing I’m picky and pass up more than you could ever think possible.

Chapter One ¶

The First of Many

~Jane~

Y es, Jean, I know you said you wanted me to meet your boss’s nephew’s son’s best friend, but truthfully I don’t want to. The phone is pressed to my ear as I push the cart up the aisle. I have been picking up a few things for Mom while she does her physiotherapy. She is always exhausted after the hour’s workout and usually cranky.

Jane, I wouldn’t set you up if I hadn’t seen the guy with my own two eyes. He is fucking hot and built like a brick shit house. He’s covered in ink and hard in all the right places. She giggles. That’s her type of man. I prefer a man who likes me and doesn’t try to change me.

I laugh because I love my sister, but her version of hot is drastically different from mine.

She’s a twenty-year-old girl who follows almost every modeling photographer known to man. She likes her guys muscular, bearded, and gorgeous. Okay, if I’m honest, beards make me lose my panties, and tattoos make me drool.

She can dream like that—I am forty, short, curvy. Most of those muscular guys don’t even glance my way unless they’re telling me which diet to use or which machine would work best to flatten my butt.

Sometimes, she shows me a picture, and I have to check my wallet to make sure no one has punched my cougar card. That puppy is still in its sealed package with the price tag on it.

"Jeanniebug, the last man you set me up with was a seventy-five-year-old man, and the reason he showed up was because of his grandson—you heard me, his grandson—got a hair-brained idea to fly to Thailand last minute. He thought it was rude to stand me up when he had set up the meeting in the first place," I say, shoving the last bit of chocolate bar into my mouth.

Janiekins, that was one-time last year. Please go out with Guy. He runs his gym and makes that wrestler you like so much look like a pansy.

I sigh. Well, it looks like Jean gets her way again. Okay, set it up and text me the details.

I hang up while she squeals and