HERO (The Complete Series)
Hero Box Set
Complete Series
Bella Love-Wins
Contents
Hero Box Set
Copyright
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HERO Complete Series
Book One - Hero
Book Two - Hero For Me
Book Three - Hero Holiday
Book Four - My Hero
Disguise Complete Series
Copyright
Book One - Disguise
Book Two - Reveal
Book Three Release
ROCKED – The Complete Series
Copyright
Rocked Part One
Rocked Part Two
Rocked Part Three
Rocked Part Four
Rocked Part Five
Rocked Part Six
Hero Box Set
The Billionaire Salvation Complete Series
Includes:
Hero
Hero for Me
Holiday Hero
My Hero
Plus a brand new Happy Ever After Epilogue
Bonus Stories also include:
Disguise Complete Series
Rocked Complete Series
Bella Love-Wins
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Hero Box Set
Written by Bella Love-Wins.
Copyright © 2016 Bella Love-Wins.
All Rights Reserved.
First Edition. 2016
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HERO Complete Series
Book One - Hero
Chapter 1
“Are you all right?” asked the tall, well-dressed man who helped me up off the sidewalk after I tripped.
I was so embarrassed, gathering up my makeup, wallet, keys and other unmentionables that had fallen out of my purse and spilled just about everywhere. “Um, yes, thank you,” I said weakly, looking back at the street to try and figure out what had made me slip and fall.
I was already late, and now I was both late and publicly humiliated. It’s funny how we get so embarrassed for some of the stupidest things. I mean, gravity exists, and therefore we fall. Babies fall all the time. So do kids, but at some point we’re suddenly embarrassed about falling?
I didn’t have time to explore the thought, but figured that maybe I might mention it at some point that day. I was in a rush to my part-time online radio news station job as a DJ-slash-news announcer.
“You’re late, Kate,” said George Wilkinson, the station’s evening producer, close gay friend every woman loves to have, and all-round pain in the ass.
I decided it was probably in my best interest to ignore him. I was in a bad mood, and he probably was as well. I logged in to my music archive account and started pulling together the music sequence for my shift, which mostly was already done by George, but sometimes he had no talent for understanding what needed to go where. That was one of the reasons that they accepted my frequent lateness. I knew what to play and I knew how to get the online and phone-in fans engaged.
After graduating from college in Communications and Social Media Strategy, it was the first job I interviewed for. I had already been a college radio DJ and felt comfortable on the air, so I knew this job would be a breeze. That was until I bombed the interview. I think I wanted it too much. It represented freedom from my past and independence from the people who brought me into this world, who I often liked to refer to as ‘them’. Still, I got a call back about three weeks after my interview, when one of their part-time DJs just up and walked out during a live show. That was good for me.
So when they called me in for a second chance, it went much more smoothly. And when they hired me, they had no regrets. I was the one who pitched for most viral song of the week, a social voting online contest, and it boosted our listener numbers by thirty-eight. Mind you, it also increased the number of psychos phoning in and social media ‘ragers’ yapping about us on Twitter and Facebook. I didn’t mind too much when they yelled or sent those messages in all caps that were so annoying to everyone else. It was actually great for our ratings.
I stretched an arm out and leaned past George to reach for the shift’s music sequence. He was sitting beside me to cue up the news feed.
“Remember to mention the ‘newsrockcontest’ hashtag as soon as you get on, okay?” he said as he got up to grab an espresso from the automatic coffee machine plugged in at the corner wall. Quality, single-serve brewed coffee was one of the few perks of this job.
“I created the hashtag, remember?” I reminded him.
“Yes, and maybe you should create a ‘Hero for Kate’ hashtag so you can find a nice man in time for the holidays.”
I groaned. One of the downsides of the job was everyone knew your business, and we couldn’t help sharing it because we were always in such close quarters.
“Maybe I should take your man, George,” I said snidely. George was married to one of the sexiest men in Manhattan. Tall, ridiculously handsome, fit and rich. Too bad he was gay.
“Go ahead and try,” he scoffed. “By the way, how come you’re not seeing that guy from the fourth floor?”
I wanted to refer to him as that guy too. He was a complete flop in bed, pun intended, and it took me a long six dates to find that out.
“Fucking waste of time,” I responded as he began to leave the room, and I thought to myself, good thing I was holding out for my hero.
Ever since I could remember, I had had this particular fantasy about meeting The One. I was infatuated with the idea that I’d meet and fall in love with a hero. An alpha male in a job where he wore a uniform. He would save the day, steal my heart, own my soul and make my life whole. There was just something about a hero archetype that mesmerized me. Their rugged bodies; that proud, cocky walk many of them had; their brute strength, protective nature, commanding presence, and independence like nothing else. I had to have me one of them. For life. I guess I was keeping myself romantically pure, if nothing else, until I found him.
A hero to me is strong, steady, noble, and compassionate. At least that’s what I read in every adventure romance that I’ve ever read. I wasn’t much for movies, but the ones I’ve watched completely reinforced my theory and desire for one. What would make matters worse, is the recurring dream I had of him. This one dream that kept repeating over and over again, like one of those broken turntable records my grandpa used to play.
In the dream, I was crossing the street in front of my building, and he would quickly grab me around my waist and push me out of the path of an oncoming car. I would land ever so gently on the sidewalk, wrapped safely in his arms, with his muscled body pressed onto my chest. In my vision, his blue eyes were powerful, piercing into my soul, with his bedroom smile warming me to my core. The world would fall away like no one was there except him and me. We’d end up on his bed with me spread out on it, calling out his name as he’d make me come over and over again. After he came, as I’d run my hand through his dark hair, looking dreamily into his eyes, that’s when I’d wake up or come back to reality in the case of a daydream.
In the case of dreaming, it
was one of those dreams that you wake up from and wish you could fall back to sleep and pick up right where you left off, and have it go on and on. Sadly, it always ended at that exact same point. I’ve had that dream since I was seventeen, and now, four years later, I was still waiting.
Sometimes, I would curse these dreams. If I didn’t have them, maybe I would’ve seen Chad Bridges coming from a mile away. Maybe I wouldn’t have romanticized his job as a firefighter. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so close to him so quickly. Maybe I wouldn’t have slept with him on the second date. Maybe I wouldn’t have let him fuck me over in more ways than one. And maybe he wouldn’t have broken my heart with all of his lies and made me so jaded about meeting my real hero. I dumped Chad, after I found out that he’d lied and cheated on me, with my best friend from college of all people. Once he was gone, I put him in the ‘wolf in hero’s clothing’ category and decided he was not worthy of filling the shoes of the man of my dreams.
George re-entered the room. “What the hell are you doing? Five seconds of dead air, get your news script and talk!”
I straightened up and got to it, realizing I had gotten a little distracted by my thoughts. I blamed it on Chad Bridges and moved on.
“Got it,” I replied, feeling a touch guilty.
Within seven minutes the news had been read and we were back to the queued music sequence. George sat down beside me again.
“I’ve got to keep an eye on you, girl,” he said. “You can’t let that happen again.”
“Sorry about that.”
“What’s going on with you anyway?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I replied. “Probably just a little tired.”
It was late November, and the days were getting shorter. The leaves had already turned, and most of them had fallen off the oak and birch trees in the neighborhood. We’d even had a couple of snowfalls just before Black Friday.
“Well, maybe you should have some coffee, because if I have to warn you again tonight, I may have to fire your high and mighty ass. I’ve gotten enough flak from the station manager and ultimately, no matter how savvy you are in all things social media, I’m accountable. Keep your head in the game when you’re sitting in that chair, okay?”
“All right. Sorry,” I replied. “It won’t happen again.”
I said it wouldn’t, but I knew it probably would, because that dream had turned into a lot of daydreaming, and I gotten into substantial trouble for it over the years. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I’d probably get fired or run over by a bus one day for exactly the same reason. A distracted, daydreaming DJ was a dead DJ. Ditto for my part-time waitressing job I had right up until the end if this past summer. The job at the station was still part-time, so I had taken a job as a restaurant greeter at the gourmet Italian restaurant two blocks from where I live. The pay sucked, but the tips were crazy good. It had just become too much, and not challenging enough, so I had quit at the end of the summer.
“So Kate, what are you doing after shift tonight?”
“No plans. Why?”
“Richard and I are meeting for the Arthur Jazz premier, and we have a couple of extra tickets. Richard has a friend who…”
“Not again George,” I countered. “You and Richard are not matchmakers, and I’m not falling for that again. The last time I ended up like a third wheel for you two, because the guy ran off. Honestly, that was not good for my ego.”
“Trust me I wouldn’t set you up again. Plus you know the guy ran off because you insulted him.”
“It was not an insult,” I answered. “It was a statement.”
“You told him his shirt smelled like cinnamon and sweat.”
“Well, next time don’t try to hook me up with someone that works at a bakery.”
“The guy owns the largest baked goods franchise in the state, Kate,” George said. “I’m telling you, you missed out with that one. He lives in a Fifth Avenue penthouse, and he’s a really nice guy.”
“Right, and you would know right George?” I regretted saying it the second after it came out of my mouth. I softened my tone to add, “Look George, I know that you mean well, but I’m just not ready for anyone right now. I will pass on tonight, okay? Oh, that’s my cue.”
I started my signature radio chant. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a cold evening, getting colder with lake effects snow in the forecast. You’re tuned in to WRFJ 92.7 FM New York, and you’re listening to Kate Rock. We have exactly twenty-seven days until Christmas. Time to get in gear, listeners. You know you don’t want to be one of those last-minute shoppers. You’ll be fighting the mad Christmas Eve rush, kicking and screaming at your fellow man for that last coveted gift on the stores shelves, trying desperately to please those wonderful people you love.”
I got into my groove, and the rest of the shift just flew by. George didn’t raise the question of plans, boyfriends, dates, or anything else for the rest of the night. He may have been avoiding me after I told him I was not up for another blind date. I felt bad for a minute or two, but it was good to have some quiet around the place.
Chapter 2
I was hungry after my shift was over, so I decided to go have a bite at Sabatini’s - the Italian restaurant where I used to work. As I walked in, I noticed a few of my old coworkers were on shift.
“Hey Kate,” said Joy, the hostess who filled my vacancy after I left. She was clearly from the New York aristocracy. She was all manners and breeding. Apparently, her father had cut her off financially to teach her a life lesson before she could access her trust fund. It was temporary, so Joy was biding her time at Sabatini’s. This job at the restaurant was all that she could find. It allowed her to stay close to home, and to continue putting the pressure on her father to give in. Naturally, she was no good at the job, so every time I came by for a meal, she felt a little threatened. “You’re not back for your old job, are you?”
“Not at all, Joy,” I answered. “Lighten up a bit, would you?”
“I was kidding, Kate,” Joy said with a smirk. “But if you’d said yes tonight, for once, I’d actually be happy. It’s a zoo in here.”
“Well, it’s all-you-can-eat spaghetti night, isn’t it?” I reminded her. The cook had this amazing spaghetti sauce recipe that no one could resist. On all-you-can-eat spaghetti night, the place was always packed to the rafters. “Maybe I can just order take out. Otherwise, I’d have to eat standing up.”
“Good. Grab a seat at the bar,” Joy suggested. “We’ll get your favorite, then?”
“Yes. Sounds good.”
I found a seat in the far corner of the restaurant’s only bar. It was just inches away from the men’s washroom. There were mostly guys sitting there, many of them waiting to be seated for dinner. The men who hung out as regulars at this particular bar were some of the most brazen in New York. Tonight, I really was not in the mood to flirt or be propositioned, so I tilted my body a little away from their direction and stared down on my cell phone.
“Oh, hi Kate!” chirped Diane, one of the servers who had worked there for over seven years. She was one of the few ex co-workers I kept in touch with outside of work, as she was such a kind person. I reached up and gave her a quick hug.
“Hi, Diane how are you doing?” I asked. “Must be a hectic one for you.”
“Yes, the usual for the spaghetti rush,” she answered. “How are things with you?”
“Pretty good, thanks.”
“You should come back, you know. Joy is a pain in the butt, and we miss you around here,” Diane complained. “Her boyfriend’s been giving her all sorts of trouble, and all she does is bring it to work. Between her father, the boyfriend, and all those spa treatments and stylist appointments she’s missing, I’m seriously tired about hearing all her billionaire drama.”
“I can imagine.” I knew it firsthand. Most people who’ve never been wealthy have this fairytale idea that the lives of the rich and famous are all glamour, excitement and easy. That couldn’t be further from the trut
h. To me, it was all about control, manipulation, competition, and complicated relationships. In fact, I think that when Facebook created the ‘it’s complicated’ relationship status, Mark Zuckerberg meant it for one of his snooty rich college buddies. Personally, I was much happier living a normal life as opposed to what I left behind.
“I think your food’s ready, dear,” Diane said as she looked up from wiping the bar counter. “Let me go check.”
She came back in a few moments with a brown bag and handed it to me. “Yup. This one’s yours, Kate. Enjoy.”
As I took the bag, Diane leaned close to me. “Your parents phoned again,” she whispered. “They sent a PI here three days ago looking for you.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “They will never give up, will they?”
“Maybe you should just call them and settle it once and for all,” Diane suggested, speaking softly. “People change, sometimes for the better. But if you never give them a chance, or give them forgiveness, you’re taking peace away from your own life. You don’t want to wait until there’s something to regret, do you?”
I didn’t answer. I just looked down at the bag. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about that.
* * *
I walked home in a mental fog, resisting any and all attempts at eye contact from the people who passed by. I was used to the catcalls from men and the lingering, mean stares I got from women so often. Apparently I fit the traits of the man-stealing vixen. George would tell me all the time that not only did I have a phenomenal voice for radio, but that I was a stunner with legs for miles. Coming from anyone else, I would have considered it to be sexual harassment, but then again, it was George.