Jagged

By Elle Wright

CUTS LIKE A KNIFE

 

The more pristine the veneer, the darker the family secrets. Jamie Yates has been living that truth for eight long years, and wants nothing to do with the parents whose DNA he carries.

 

Damaged and disgusted, he moved halfway around the world to start a new life in Melbourne, Australia, and he stayed away until his brother asks him to come back to be the best man at his wedding.

 

What seems like an innocuous ask is anything but. The past rears its ugly head, and things are worse than Jamie could've ever imagined.

 

To complicate matters even more, he meets Aurora, a woman he didn't dare to dream was real. She's everything he wants in a life mate, but his rage at what happened still tortures him, and he knows he should keep his distance so she'll be safe. From him.

 

If he's even a fraction of the man he wants to be, he needs to return to Australia before he hurts her in a way he'll never be able to mend, even though leaving her will rip his heart to shreds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Jun 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957295503

Elle Wright

There was never a time when Elle Wright wasn’t about to start a book, wasn't already deep in a book—or had just finished one. She grew up believing in the importance of reading, and became a lover of all things romance when her mother gave her her first romance novel. She lives in Michigan.

Book preview

CUTS LIKE A KNIFE

The more pristine the veneer, the darker the family secrets. Jamie Yates has been living that truth for eight long years, and wants nothing to do with the parents whose DNA he carries.

Damaged and disgusted, he moved halfway around the world to start a new life in Melbourne, Australia, and he stayed away until his brother asks him to come back to be the best man at his wedding.

What seems like an innocuous ask is anything but. The past rears its ugly head, and things are worse than Jamie could’ve ever imagined.

To complicate matters even more, he meets Aurora, a woman he didn’t dare to dream was real. She’s everything he wants in a life mate, but his rage at what happened still tortures him, and he knows he should keep his distance so she’ll be safe. From him.

If he’s even a fraction of the man he wants to be, he needs to return to Australia before he hurts her in a way he’ll never be able to mend, even though leaving her will rip his heart to shreds.

PRAISE FOR ELLE WRIGHT'S

THE LETTER CLUB

Nothing Else But You

"This was one of my favorites from an author period. It had everything I love in a novel. The characters and plot had me from beginning to end. Highly recommend." ~JuliaBookLandReviews

If Ever I Fall

"The second book in The Letter Club series does not disappoint. I have to admit that I am a sucker for an old fashioned letter, so this story was right up my alley. If the idea of breaking out pen and paper seems archaic to you, then you may want to skip it.....but why on Earth would you want to do that? You would miss a phenomenal love story. Matteo is the love interest that everyone is looking for and Sophia is the girl that makes his heart melt."

~ RomanceReaderHB82

Never Without You

"These Letter Club books are fantastic! This is the third book I’ve read in the series and this one was just as good as the first two. It feels like you are part of trying to solve a mystery as you look for clues in the letters trying to figure out where each person lives. The love story is full of action, passion and steamy scenes! Highly recommend all of these books!"

~ Midnight Maiden

Anyone Who Had A Heart

"Max is a hair stylist at a ritzy salon in Redwood Falls. She has a difficult past and stays close to family. She keeps her heart even closer afraid she will fall foe someone to be heartbroken when they find out her past. Ryan is the new police chief. In town. He is smitten with Max from the moment he first saw her. After having coffee with her and one date, he is certain she is the one for him. Wonderful story of one woman’s struggle with self doubt, forgiving herself, the anxiety that the un-forgiveness causes, and allowing herself to be loved. And about the man who loved her enough to not give up and to help her heal. Such a great love story. I like the use of letters to break through some of the communication barriers."

~ L. Courter Vine Voice

Try A Little Tenderness

"Try a Little Tenderness by Elle Wright is a good, and enjoyable sassy sweet opposites attract romance read. The story has a great entertaining story line. The characters are great, wonderful, and they have great chemistry. This story is very entertaining."

~Kimberly

JAGGED

Elle Wright

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www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

JAGGED

Copyright © 2023 Elle Wright

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-957295-50-3

To everyone on the journey to finding and accepting themselves…

You'll get there.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

When I write, sometimes the story flows, and sometimes I'm pushing through, hoping the magic will kick in. This story had a life of its own. From the moment Aurora began talking to me while I was standing at the kitchen sink, until the story was done, these people gave me no peace. I've never had characters who insisted I park myself in front of the laptop and stay there until the last word was written.

I hope you love them as much as I do.

I wasn't given a choice.

Contents

Praise for Elle Wright

Copyright

Dedication

Author’s Note

Title

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Playlist

About the Author

About the Publisher

JAGGED

Even before you touched me, I belonged to you;

all you had to do was look at me.

~Louise Glück

Chapter One

Aurora

"Please, don’t be nice. Don’t be handsome. Don’t be charming. Please, don’t be nice. Don’t be handsome. Don’t be charming. Please, don’t—"

Rory. A familiar voice interrupts my internal chant. Rory. Louder this time, with a tinge of pissed off. Aurora. Okay, now really pissed off.

I open my eyes to see my former college roommate and bestie, Chanel – yes, pronounced like the clothing line, and given to her by her mother who’s a crazy woman – is standing right in front of me, elbows cocked, hands at her waist. She’s wearing a short robe and her long, professionally streaked blonde hair is up in huge hot pink rollers.

What?

That’s my question, Chanel huffs.

About…?

What the hell are you doing?

"I was meditating."

No way you were mediating with that face.

It’s the only face I have.

Ugh, Chanel groans. You know what I mean. You looked like you just swallowed a raw jalapeño.

Here comes the lie. The lie I must tell or else Chanel’s brain will explode, and I won’t be responsible for that happening two days before her wedding. I transcended into a deep state.

Well, there’s an understatement.

What’s up?

Chanel widens her big eyes until they’re demitasse saucers. You must’ve been really under to forget. She shakes her head. It’s four o’clock. We have to get ready. We’re expected at my parents’ by five thirty.

I didn’t forget. It’s where I’ll be subjected to the dreaded first meeting between yours truly and the best man: the groom’s brother who lives in Melbourne, Australia, and has never come back to the U.S. since he left eight years ago.

No one talks about him. I mean no one. I don’t know why, and I’ve never asked. Which is huge for me. I’m nosy in the extreme. I don’t gossip, but I love to find out everything there is to know about the people in my life, and the people in my people’s life. When it comes to this guy, even asking is verboten.

My mantra was about him. I don’t want to like him, or be attracted to him. I’m in a self-imposed dry patch. Relationships, even casual ones, are distracting. And at this point in my education, I can’t afford to get distracted at all. I’m still at Stanford in the early stages of my PhD in immunology. And yeah, Covid had/has everything to do with me choosing that field of study.

Mystery man – well, I know his last name since he’s the groom’s, Griffin Yates’s, brother. And yes, Yates as in the Atherton Yates. Anyway, mystery man and I will be tied to one another through the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, the photographs, the wedding ceremony, and some reception duties.

I refuse to say I’m the maid of honor out loud. It’s a demeaning, archaic term. I’ve been referring to my wedding status as Number One Sidekick. The bridesmaids, all eight of them, can choose which number Sidekick they wish to be. Unfortunately, only two of them are with me on using my more modern substitute for bridesmaid.

As if she’s reading my mind, Chanel points at me and says, Tonight of all nights, don’t screw with my parents or Griff’s parents. If they say maid of honor, smile and carry on like a normal person.

She knows I detest the word normal. As if there is such a thing. However, I can say categorically, I am not conventional. I’m pretty sure I was born this way, but my upbringing, and the juxtaposition of my upbringing with my schooling, could only produce a person even remotely conventional.

I’m the only child of parents who’d met at age three at the commune where they were raised by their dye-in-the-wool hippie parents. My paternal grandmother, who was forty-four when she gave birth to my father, says to anyone who has the temerity to ask why she waited so long, I was becoming, and when I arrived only then was I suitable parental material.

My parents, both brilliant eco-scientists, waited until their late thirties to have me. One and done, my dad always says. Along with, It would’ve been irresponsible to produce more than one new human on an overcrowded planet. Apparently, they discussed the reproduction concept for years, going back and forth between adoption and the romantic notion of having a person with both their DNA. Romance won out.

Between the ages of two and a half and six, I went to a Montessori school close to where my parents are professors at UC Berkeley. In an unusual twist, my guide – what Montessori calls teachers – told my parents I would benefit from a top-drawer private school with an intense academic program. With annual tuition assistance – no way could my parents afford the full ride for a fancy private school – from the first grade through the twelfth, I went to one of the top prep schools in California. Which is how I survived the rigorous and competitive undergraduate academic life at Stanford University.

Chanel Winslow, of the San Francisco Winslows, eschewed sororities and was my roommate from our freshman year all the way through our senior year. How and why we work lays testament to the phrase opposites attract.

Our friendship is rooted in the mutual belief that vanilla ice cream is better than chocolate, pizza is its own food group, secrets are never to be shared, it’s a friend’s duty to hold back the hair of the puking friend, and underwire bras are a modern form of torture. There are other tenets we both endorse, but mostly, we understand and like each other almost all the time.

Except right now. Chanel is working herself up into a froth. Her parents are stuffy, but Griff’s parents are double starched right through to their limbic systems. Especially the pre-frontal cortex function that establishes emotional states.

Between the wedding and the return of the heretofore absent Yates, Chanel needs me to appear normal even though she knows I’m anything but. So I’ll soothe her in a language she was groomed to understand.

I was able to score two St. John Knit suits. She raises a skeptical brow as I get up to retrieve my vintage clothes from the garment bag hanging on the back of the guest room door. The nautical red, I pull out both suits and hold them up, or the pink and black long jacket and matching skirt.

Hmmm, rumbles from the back of her throat as she surveys the choices. The red complements your coloring, but the pink is less confrontational. I look down at each suit so she doesn’t see me roll my eyes. Try them on. I won’t know for sure until you’re wearing them.

Dutifully, I put on the pink first. It’s not a vibrant pink, it’s sort of washed out, like over-chewed bubble gum. I stand still, then she circles her finger in the air, and slowly I do a three-sixty turn.

I’m not thrilled with the lines. Try the red. Before I put on the jacket, she says, Oh this is going to be better. The black at the dress’s waist accents your curves, and the jacket is tailored. I shrug into the jacket, and as I’m buttoning it up, she starts to smile. What shoes are you wearing? I pull out a stuffed towel and unveil the black slingback, peep-toe vintage Louboutins. Oh. They’re perfect. Well done, you. What are you doing with your hair?

I want to say keeping it attached to my scalp, but that’d get her frothing again, so I tell her, I thought a simple French twist would be best.

I agree. She moves to the door, turns, and orders, We have to be on our way in an hour, then she hurries out.

I amble into the en suite bathroom and take a quick shower without getting my hair wet. My hair has a life of its own. Super thick and curly, typically I wear a pony or put it up in a topknot. Blowing it out to tame it into a do takes around forty-five minutes. Most days I don’t have the time or inclination to bother. Every now and again I toy with chopping it off, but I’m a little vain where my hair’s concerned.

A French twist is easy, but requires a handful of super-long bobby pins. By the time I’m done, my arms feel like I’ve done a hundred reps with ten-pound weights.

Makeup is minimal. Dark liner, mascara, and red lipstick. I’m lucky. I have naturally well-shaped brows, but they require a lot of gardening to keep them looking decent.

I’m stuffing my phone, lipstick, cash, and a credit card into my minuscule black bag when Chanel sweeps in looking like a fairy princess. Her default mode. She’s wearing a lemon silk shift with a scoop neck, a double strand of pearls, matching pearl earrings, and a sweet little coral jacket with three-quarter sleeves. Her hair flows in perfect bouncy waves, and her makeup is subtle, highlighting her cheekbones and hazel eyes.

Standing next to each other, I can’t help but think: Lady and the Vamp.

Nice earrings, she says as we’re descending in the elevator.

I touch one of the gold knots. "Abuela Gomez gave them to me for graduation."

Oh. I remember now. Sorry. My brain isn’t functioning properly.

You have a perfectly good excuse. I nudge her with my elbow. This time.

She grabs my arm and squeezes. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through all this, she waves her hand in the air, without you.

I smile. Happy to do it, but don’t make it a habit. She pinches me. Ow.

This is the only time I’m getting married. If Griff does anything that puts us in jeopardy, I’ll cut off his balls.

That’ll teach him.

We’re walking through the lobby, our heels clicking on the marble floor, when Chanel stops, turns, and grabs my hands. I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?

I tilt my head. "Do you have to get married?"

No.

"Do you want to get married?"

Truth? she whispers, and I nod. I don’t want to get married, but Griff doesn’t think living together indefinitely says ‘I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

That’s him. What do you think?

We’ve had this conversation fifty times if we had it once. Chanel has convinced herself marriage kills the spark. Since she’s using her parents as her template, she has a point, but her parents didn’t get married, their families orchestrated a merger.

It’s not what I think, it’s what I know. People stay married for lots of reasons, but I don’t know one marriage where they’re together because they love each other the way they did when they started out.

That’s not realistic. Life happens and you have to flow with it. Sometimes the burden is so heavy, it weighs you down. But if you’re in it together, it’s easier. And yeah, maybe the way you love each other changes, but it’s no less special.