My Furry Valentine: In Between 1.5 (Peculiar Mysteries) Read online

  My Furry Valentine

  The Misadventures of Sunny Haddock

  An *In Between* Peculiar Mystery

  Book 1.5

  By Renee George

  My Furry Valentine (Peculiar Mysteries Book 1.5)

  Copyright © Renee George 2016 – All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement by the author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and storylines in this book are inspired only by the author’s imagination. The characters are based solely in fiction and are in no relation inspired by anyone bearing the same name or names. Any similarities to real persons, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Also by Renee George

  About the Author

  Join Renee’s Newsletter

  Summary

  Weeks away from having her first baby, human psychic Sunny Haddock wants to marry the father and love of her life, coyote shifter Babel Trimmel, on Valentine’s Day. Then disaster strikes. And keeps striking. Between the personal maintenance disasters and the theft of their weddings bands, it appears Sunny and Babel’s nuptials are doomed. Until their friends in the shifter community of Peculiar, Missouri come to the rescue, determined to give Sunny and Babel a happily-ever-after.

  Get Books 1 & 2 of the Peculiar Mysteries

  www.peculiarmysteries.com

  You’ve Got Tail (Book 1)

  Thank You For Not Shifting (Book 2)

  Join Renee’s Newsletter

  https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/m8p8u6

  Chapter One

  February 13th

  Normally, I am not a defeatist. You’ll never hear anyone who knows me say, “Boy, that Sunny Haddock sure is a quitter.” On the contrary, I am an optimist by nature. However, as I lay on the cold concrete floor of Peculiar Paw-On, my wedding dress ripped and stained red, and my stomach cramping so hard I can barely breathe, I am truly ready to cry “uncle.”

  At least now I know it is a who behind the sabotage of my Valentine’s Day nuptials, not a what. It doesn’t matter, though. As of now, the wedding is off.

  ****

  Two weeks earlier - 14 days until the wedding...

  “Oh. My. God.” Chavvah Trimmel, my business partner and my soon to be sister-in-law, gasped. Her dark brown hair, long and thick, spilled over her shoulders as she shook her head, her blue eyes wide with horror. “Oh, Sunny! Did you stick your head in the oven?”

  “That would’ve turned out better.” I put my hands in front of my face to hide the ravaged skin. “Don’t look at me.” The tears stung as they rolled down my raw cheeks. “Ow.” I rubbed my swollen pregnant belly and hiccupped. I was five months along, which in the therian world was practically full term. Shifter babies only needed six months to cook, unlike their human counterparts who took a full nine. Even though I wasn’t a shifter, my baby certainly was.

  Chavvah took my arm and led me to a chair in my small but wonderful kitchen. Babel had painted it a sage green with accents of gold and chocolate brown. On the wall above the coppery back splash, he’d stenciled the words, Above all else. Love.

  Chav patted my thigh. “Tell me why you took a sandblaster to yourself.”

  Despite my embarrassment, I managed a laugh. “Well, you know those miracle sponges? The ones that take stains off the wall?”

  “You didn’t!”

  I nodded, cringing at the look of pure disbelief in her eyes. “I’m getting married on Valentine’s Day. That’s in two weeks, Chav.” I held up my index and middle fingers. “Two! And this Missouri winter is killing my complexion. It’s bad enough I’m going to be fat in my pictures—”

  “Pregnant.”

  “Whatever! I want dewy skin, damn it.” I knew I was being cranky, but junior was putting a lot of pressure on the inside of my ribs, I had constant heartburn, and I couldn’t walk three feet without farting. It felt like every part of my body was rebelling against me.

  “Sunny.” She put her arm around my shoulder. “You are—um, were—beautiful.”

  I wailed. “I look like I’ve been kissing the sun’s ass.”

  I saw her mouth twitch and her eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Chavvah Trimmel!”

  Chav made an obvious effort to swallow her giggles. She walked to the counter to grab the tissue box, her limp noticeable. I worked at hiding my sympathy. There was nothing she hated more than people feeling sorry for her. Her uneven gait was a result of being kidnapped and tortured by monsters—the human variety—and even though she was a therianthrope, or for simplification, an animal shifter, she would always carry the scars of what those men did to her.

  I still felt guilty sometimes. You see, I’m a psychic. Obviously not a very good one, considering I didn’t foresee the miracle sponge ripping my face off, but when my ability works, it’s wicked accurate. I’d left San Diego, California and moved to Peculiar, Missouri in June, shortly after Chavvah had gone missing. My ability showed me nightmare images and clues to her whereabouts, but it still took several weeks to find and rescue her.

  She handed me the tissue box. I pulled out several sheets and carefully dotted the tears from my face. It freaking hurt. “I can’t let Babe see me like this.”

  My unsympathetic baby pummeled me right in the bladder. Even my own child thought I was a doofus. The little darling kicked again, this time even harder.

  “Oof,” I said, holding my stomach and crossing my legs.

  “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head and felt my lower lip jut. “My face looks like a piece of aged steak, I can’t tell my ankles from my calves, and I’m pretty sure I just peed my stretchy, unflattering maternity pants. I am far from okay.”

  “It’ll be all right, Sunny.” Chav hit a button on her phone and put it to her ear. After a short pause, she said, “Hey doc. No, I’m fine. Yes, the therapy is going well. Yes, I’m taking my meds. No, I’m not overdoing it. Yes, I’m doing my stretches. Jesus, Billy Bob, I’m good.” She paused again. “I called because Sunny needs you.”

  Chav disliked Doctor Billy Bob Smith almost as much as she hated people feeling sorry for her. The aversion to all things Billy Bob seemed to run in the Trimmel family. Babel couldn’t stand him either. I think it had something to do with the doc being a lycanthrope, or a werewolf, and not a therian. Or maybe it had to do with Billy Bob being a shaman as well as an M.D. The Trimmels had been raised Christian, and mysticism was a hard pill for them to swallow. I didn’t get it. He was a nice man, a competent doctor, and super easy on the eyes.

  When Chav disconnected the call, she said, “He’s on his way over.”

  “Wow, he must be having a slow day.”

  “It’s you, Sunny.” Obviously irritated, Chav went to the sink and filled a glass of water. “So, yeah, he’ll come running.”

  “Are you mad at me?” More tears welled in my eyes, threatening to scorch my burning cheeks. Damn pregnancy hormones.

  Chav’
s gaze softened. “Of course not.”

  “Oh, good. Will you make me lunch? I have yummy sweet potato gnudi in the fridge. Easy to reheat. Oh, and I’d like some spicy pickled beets on the side. Top shelf on the left,” I directed.

  She shook her head, grinning as she opened the refrigerator.

  “Thank you, Auntie Chav,” I sang. I kicked my legs like a happy toddler. “This niece or nephew of yours is hungry.” Thanks to my psychic powers, I knew the sex, but Babe wanted to be surprised, so I hadn’t told anyone that I’d had a vision of him throwing a football around with our daughter. She would be a hella-tomboy. I smiled, absently rubbing my stomach. She would be strong and fierce, just like Chavvah, and this knowledge pleased me to no end.

  By the time the gnudi was hot and on a plate in front of me, the juice from the beets adding a vibrant shade of burgundy to the brown butter sauce, Billy Bob arrived.

  When I’d first met him, he had waist-length dreadlocks, but in the past month he’d had his hair cut to his shoulders, and his thick, silvery hair framed his face in a tangle of lush curls. I sighed. A man shouldn’t be that beautiful.

  His skin was a light shade of mocha, his eyes were a pale shade of gray, and his body... Oof. I grabbed my stomach as Baby Trimmel gave me another good kick.

  Chavvah cast me a slightly judge-y gaze, and if my face hadn’t already been on fire, I’m sure I would have felt the heat rush to my cheeks.

  “Hey, Billy Bob,” I said, trying to cut through the now awkward tension in the room.

  He held a small tub in his right hand. He smiled, and his eyes lit up with humor. “I heard you decided to perform dermabrasion without a medical license.”

  Chav snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “I’ve made you a mixture of salves and herbs, along with something to help with the pain.” He handed me the container.

  I unscrewed the lid and sniffed. It smelled like sweet clover and honey. “Nice. How long will it take to heal my face?”

  “A couple of days.” He must have seen my disappointment because he winked, and added, “I could always kiss it better.”

  I didn’t even try to fight the grin. Lycanthropes had healing properties in their saliva, and once, after I’d had my jaw dislocated, Billy Bob had definitely kissed it better. Which is the exact moment I knew I’d fallen in love with Babel. The kiss had been all kinds of awesome, but all I could think about was Babe. Babe hadn’t appreciated the doc’s treatment protocol at the time and had made me promise to forgo healing by kissing in the future. “Nope.” I tapped the lid. “Better to heal up the old fashioned way.”

  Billy Bob laughed. It was rich and melodious. “No worries, Sunny. I added some kisses to the ointment.”

  Oh thank Heavens! It meant my face really would get better quickly. Slow healing was one of the many drawbacks of being human. “You’re the best.”

  He walked over, tucked his finger under my chin and gave my face a once over. “You really did a thorough job.” He placed a brotherly kiss on the top of my head. “But nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “Thanks,” I said with genuine gratitude.

  “Glad I could be of service.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” Chav mumbled.

  Billy Bob gave her a wry glance, but before he could rebut, my front door flew open, and Ruth Thompson rushed inside.

  “Sunny!” she shouted.

  I stood up, alarmed at her urgency. “What’s happened? Babe? Is he hurt?” Ruth had been helping Babel settle into his official job as mayor of Peculiar. He needed an assistant and she needed a break from Doe Run Automotive, the business owned by her husband, Ed.

  “Jesus,” she whispered, her doe eyes (and I do mean doe) widened. “What happened to you? Did you fall into the fireplace?’

  “Focus, Ruth.” The baby kicked again, and I leaned on the table. “Just tell me the news before I go into premature labor.”

  Ruth inhaled deeply to slow her breathing. “Your almost in-laws are driving up here. They’ll be here this evening.”

  “Mom and Dad are coming tonight?” Chavvah said. “They weren’t supposed to arrive until the tenth. Where they hell are they going to stay?”

  Heart pounding, gut wrenching panic welled inside me. Bile burned my throat. I couldn’t entertain Babe’s folks for fourteen days, I was barely holding on to my sanity as it was. Besides, they’d already voiced their unhappiness about Babel marrying a human. I found those protests somewhat hypocritical because the Trimmels were integrators—therians who didn’t believe in isolating themselves in shifter-only communities. They believed the only way to survive in the modern world was to stay immersed in human culture. Ironically, they blamed me for their children’s choices. In their minds, it was my fault that Babel and Chavvah had decided to live in a shifter community.

  “I am so screwed,” I whispered.

  Billy Bob patted my shoulders. “Keep your chin up and your face greased.”

  “What?”

  “You have to layer the ointment on thick and leave it on your skin until it’s healed. The formula will make you look like you smeared on bacon fat, but it’ll be worth it.”

  Crap! Panic twisted inside me. “Can’t you just lick it better?”

  “Sunny!” Chav protested.

  Billy Bob grinned. “Not unless I want to get into a dogfight with a coyote.”

  “Fine,” I said grumpily. I opened the tub and grabbed a handful of the salve. Ruined face. Peed pants. Fat ankles.

  What else could go wrong?

  Chapter Two

  To my relief, Babe had called me and promised his parents were coming for a short visit. Apparently, they wanted to meet their future daughter-in-law before the wedding. Go figure. My face felt better with Billy Bob’s healing salve layered on a quarter of an inch thick. I hated that my almost-in-laws first impression of Babe’s intended mate would be me looking like one of those Housewives of LaLaLand after a Botox and derma-peel party. At least, my lips weren’t bee stung and I could form expressions on my face.

  I smiled and wiggled my brows. Ow.

  Sorta form expressions.

  Anyhow, I’d been stupid, and I’d deal with the consequences.

  I rubbed my belly, took a breath, and opened my mind to visions. I wanted to know how the visit with Babe’s parents would go. Minutes passed. As usual, nothing came to me. I’d started doing readings down at the restaurant, and with some coaching from Billy Bob (in his shaman capacity), sometimes I could conjure visions related to specific questions. It didn’t always work. I’d sent away more than one unhappy customer. Unfortunately, my ability had become even more unpredictable since the pregnancy, especially when it came to my own future.

  My face was a prime example.

  In the late afternoon, Babel honked the horn of our SUV as he pulled into the driveway. Crap. In-law alert! I quickly removed my feet from the coffee table and sat up straighter, trying to assume an air of dignified grace.

  I farted.

  Oh, God. I stood up and waved the air around me. Why hadn’t I stocked up on Febreeze? I lumbered to the cabinet on the far side of the room where we kept the cleaning supplies. All I could find was the lemon-scented dusting spray. I grabbed it, slammed the cabinet shut, and awkwardly jogged back to the couch. I spewed copious amounts of duster into the air. Panicked, I lobbed the canister across the room. It rolled across the floor and disappeared into the kitchen.

  My fiance walked in, all six foot two inches of broad muscles. His normally messy brown hair was styled professionally for his new job, but it didn’t take away from the roughness lumberjack vibe provided by his five o’clock shadow. I took one look at his gorgeous blue eyes and his beautiful bow lips and shivered from my head to my groin. Damn, that man did me in! He was so incredibly sexy.

  I gulped as he walked into the room, trying to control my urge to throw myself at him. Something I did on a regular basis since getting pregnant. The extra hormones flooding my body had made me horny as
hell.

  “Babe,” I said, forgetting everything but him.

  His smile faltered. “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

  It was as if someone had dumped ice water over my libido. “Fine. Good. Doing some skin maintenance.”

  His nose twitched. “Why does it smell like lemon poop in here?”

  Stupid shifters with their stupid sensitive noses.

  “Babel, are you going to let us in?” said a woman behind my almost husband.

  Babe joined me in front of the couch.

  An older woman entered. She looked to be in her late forties, which meant she was probably in her sixties. Therianthropes weren’t immortal, but they were long-lived. Her light brown hair was twisted into a loose bun with curls falling around her face. The man behind her was the older version of Babel, and wow, I had a lot to look forward to in the future. Behind them was an elderly lady, and really, the fact that she looked old meant she was probably ancient.

  “You all must be tired after driving all morning.” I put on my cheeriest smile and quickly stopped. Stretching my lips that far hurt. A lot.

  Babe leaned close and kissed my ear. “Relax, sweetheart. They’re not going to eat you.”

  The woman with the bun stepped forward and held out her hand to me. “I’m Celia,” she said. “The mom.”

  We shook hands. Firm, but not too tight. “Hi, the mom.”

  She laughed, which surprised me. Maybe my fears were unfounded. “This is my husband, Daniel.” She gestured to the older version of Babe. “And this is Great Aunt Erma Jean.”

  Erma Jean peered at me. “Why do you have grease on your face?”

  “Facial treatment,” I said. “Supposed to give me dewy skin.”

  Erma Jean snorted. “In my day, a bride didn’t dip her head into a grease trap right before the groom’s family arrived.”

  An awkward silence descended.

  Finally, Babe cleared his throat. “Let’s sit down.”

  The sofa seated three comfortably, but we also had a loveseat for two and a single recliner. Babe took my hand and led me to the comfy chair. He grinned at me as he pulled me onto his lap. I giggled.