Broken: Book One of the M Series Read online

  I laugh with everyone else then call for attention. “So, family... I finally received all the books.”

  “Who actually did it, Vicky?” Thomas asks.

  “Cookie, Marcus, Sugar and Matthew; just as promised,” I smile.

  “And?” Katherine asks.

  “Well, let's go by the order that I got them.”

  “Which is? Who's first?” Lisa asks.

  Tim gets up and passes around copies of the first book.

  “Before you open the book, I think you should know that they all are very graphic. Nothing was held back. NOTHING.”

  “Sex, too?”

  “Especially sex, Katherine.”

  She sighs. “All right. It's not like we didn't know that they do it.”

  I nod. “If everyone is ready, let's begin.”

  They nod and open the book.

  “Cookie?”

  Mariah blinks sweetly at me. “Yes, Pumpkin, dear?”

  I grin at her. “You're up first...”

  ###

  Meet the Author

  Ryanne Anthony is a lifelong storyteller and enjoys sharing her stories with anyone who wants to be entertained. Mainly a short story writer, Ms. Anthony wrote Broken as segue into full-length novel writing.

  Broken is the first in a series of eight books.

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  Other titles by

  Ryanne Anthony

  More in the works! Check her website often for dates and links!

  The M Series: Negative Ion Series:

  Broken Falling

  Mariah Despair

  Marcus Fell

  Madison

  Matthew

  Monica

  Major

  Mended

  PlayNISE Series: Standalones:

  Effection I Wish I Wasn’t

  Yours Honey Babe

  Mine

  Ours

  Here’s an excerpt from Ms. Anthony’s next release:

  TheMSeries, Book Two: Mariah

  After dinner, in the large sitting room, I sit in a wing chair in front of the fireplace with my legs crossed, gazing around the room, and sipping a glass of brandy. I see Lisa chatting with the Cannons and she has their undivided attention.

  Dr. William Wexler, the new plastic surgery associate, walks over and sits in the wing chair at my right. He's at least six-three and very athletic looking, like he knows his way around any ball court you put him on. He has engaging hazel green eyes and is the color of caramel, like me, and his hair is cut close to his head. He's wearing a blue suit jacket and pants, no tie and an open at the neck light blue shirt. He has a diamond stud in his left ear. Very, very handsome. Still... he's no Dr. Alexander. Shit... there he is again!

  “We meet again, Mariah,” Dr. Wexler says as he settles in his seat.

  I smile. “Hello again, Dr. Wexler.”

  “Will, please.”

  I chuckle. “No, I couldn't. I may be floated to you one day and I cannot address you as Will in front of patients.”

  He fists his chin and smiles. “I insist. I don't care what you call me in front of patients, or anyone else for that matter.” He gives a look of... what? Longing? Want? Whatever it is, it's kind of nice... sweet even.

  “If you insist, Will,” I murmur.

  He clears his throat. “So you've only been here a couple of months. How are you liking the area?”

  I smile. “I think it's great; fun. I've been getting to know the city pretty well.”

  He cocks his head and lowers his voice. “Are you seeing anyone, Mariah?”

  I take a sip of brandy. I see where this is going. “No, I'm not.”

  “Okay, good.” His face erupts in a big toothy grin. “We have a lot in common.”

  “Oh?”

  “Absolutely. We’re both from the Chicago area, we're both mixed-race and we're both starting new jobs tomorrow.”

  I smile at him. “What are your nationalities?”

  “My dad is Jamaican, Mom is Mexican.”

  “I see. It's fitting that you'd be the first to address it. No one ever does.”

  “No, they won't.” He leans over close and whispers, “It's considered bad taste; politically incorrect.”

  “Oh right, got it.” I grin. “Do you speak Spanish?”

  “Not much, just the basics. Hello and such.”

  “I do. I learned it in high school.”

  “My father didn't want me to learn it, and I haven't regretted that decision until this very moment,” he murmurs.

  I smile shyly. We sit a moment, panning the room.

  “What area are you from, Will? In Chicago?” I've gotten curious about the charming Dr. Wexler.

  He smiles; pleased I used his shortened name. “South side, the Hyde Park area first, then to South Holland. We moved to California when I started college. We've been here since.”

  “I've never been to South Holland. But I had a great-aunt in Hyde Park. She died the year after my dad.”

  He turns and studies my face. “What was her last name, Mariah?”

  “Same as mine; Hollander.”

  Will's face brightens. “Are you talking about Miss Mattie? We lived five houses down from her. She used to be an awful flirt with the neighborhood men, especially my father.”

  My eyes widen then I smile. He knew my Great-aunt, my grandfather's sister. My mom used to say the same thing about her.

  “Mom says it was to get them to do her yard work and house repairs for free.”

  He laughs. “Yeah. Come to think of it, my dad did disappear with his tool box for a while occasionally. And he never came back hungry. Guess she fed him after he fixed something.” He shifts toward me. “So, Miss Mariah Hollander, what area are you from?” He takes a sip of his drink.

  “We lived in Evanston and I graduated from UIC.”

  “Taylor Street?”

  “Yes!” I smile again. I'm glad he knows the area.

  He smiles back. “I did some pre-med classes there during senior year in high school.”

  Very small world.

  “Which high school?”

  “Seton Academy, class of 1995,” he says proudly. “You?”

  “Evanston Township, 2003,” I say just as proud. I fought hard and worked my ass off to catch up with my class after the absence I had to take while suffering from migraines as Miss Helen’s illness became terminal.

  “Nice. So you're... twenty-six?”

  “Almost.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “How soon?”

  “July fifteenth.”

  He grins and puts his hand on his chest. “July seventeenth.”

  “No way,” I exclaim. He shows me his driver's license. I laugh loudly at yet another coincidence.

  “Your laugh... that is a great sound.”

  “Thank you,” I blush and take another sip of the brandy. My, my…

  “I'd like to show you something of the area and perhaps some dinner after.”

  I look at him. “Excuse me?”

  He stares straight into my eyes. “I'm asking you for a date, Mariah,” he says softly.

  “Oh.” I set my glass on the table between us and as I open my mouth to accept, I look up. Lisa is scowling at me with her arms crossed over her chest, her right foot tapping the floor. She then crosses the huge room in 4 seconds, flat.

  “Please excuse us, Dr. Wexler,” she says as she reaches down, snatches my wrist an
d yanks me out of my seat, pulling me away without waiting for a response from Will.

  She quickly leads me to the foyer.

  “What was that?” she demands, pointing her thumb behind her.

  “What was what?” I ask, trying to sound obtuse.

  She scowls at me and places her hands on her hips. “‘What was what?' You and Dr. Yummy-Face in there, that's what! He looked like he was about to take you in the middle of the room!”

  “Twink, come on! We were just talking.”

  “What was that flirty laugh, then?”

  “It wasn't flirty, it was nothing. He said something funny. What is the big deal?”

  “It's not right for you to flirt with him, that's all. You don't know him,” she says quietly. I immediately tense.

  “Is he married?”

  “No”

  “Engaged?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “Is he seeing someone?”

  “I don't know!” Lisa says exasperated.

  I relax. “Then what is the problem, Twink?”

  “I just don't think he's right for you. There is someone else out there for you.”

  I lick my lips. “Is that right?”

  She glares at me. “Cookie, come on. He's dangerous. Yes, he has talent in an operating room, but he has a reputation with young women and I think you should stay away. He is a total player and he takes no mercy. Once he gets what he wants, he's gone. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

  “You must be talking about William Wexler.”

  We startle and Lisa turns her head into the direction of that voice, but I don't need to. I know exactly who it belongs to. My nipples and everything below my waist stands in attention, just from his voice alone.

  A deep frown crosses my brow. When did he get here? Was I so enthralled with Will that I didn't see him enter? No, that is not possible. I'd know Marcus Alexander was in the room if I were blindfolded.

  I finally turn his way.

  Marcus is wearing tan trousers with a black shirt. His hair looks freshly washed and shining, a gorgeous black. He looks delicious. I want to bite him, even though he's glaring at me.

  No, I want him to bite me. I inwardly shudder at the thought.

  He moves his hands to his hips. “Is it Wexler?” he demands, so softly but his eyes are burning. I've never seen anyone this angry but controlled. It's frightening... and very exciting. I remain quiet, but not Lisa.

  “Yes, Dr. Alexander. He's been flirting with her most of the night.”

  His eyes flash ice cold. “I see. I'd like a moment with your sister, Lisa,” he snaps, those eyes never leaving mine as he approaches me.

  I smirk. Ha! Fat chance, Doctor!

  I turn my head to tell Lisa we should go back in and all I see is the back of her head as she walks away. What the hell? I put my hand to my neck and rub and step back. Marcus steps closer, continuing the cold glare.

  “What are you doing with Wexler?” he bites out.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  I must have heard him wrong. Nope, I heard the same thing.

  “What... are you doing... with Wexler?” he snarls, spitting his name out in disgust.

  “We were talking about common interests. Why?”

  “Stay away from him,” he orders.

  What the...? I seriously need to get my ears checked again. My brow tightens in a scowl and my clit strains against my panties. How can someone make me so angry and turn me on at the same time? Somebody definitely paid the electric bill between us.

  I look down at my shoes. “Why?” I ask softly, trying to calm this sudden ache in my sex.

  Marcus moves directly in front of me, his scent tingles my nose and I can barely breathe. I open my mouth and pant softly to ease the tension surging through my entire body. My nipples harden and strain against my bra. I look up at him to see if he's noticed.

  He is blatantly staring at my chest. He slowly raises his softened gaze to my eyes and licks his bottom lip. I shudder and hurriedly cross my arms across my breasts.

  “Don't!” he demands. I leave my arms right where they are.

  “Why, Dr. Alexander?” I ask breathless.

  Calm down! My mind screams. I'm trying to! I scream back.

  “Do away with that 'Dr. Alexander' bullshit. My name is Marcus,” he rasps.

  I ignore his command. “Answer my question, Dr. Alexander.” His eyes flash and his jaw clenches.

  “Because, Miss Hollander, he cannot have you,” he decrees.

  What fucking nerve!

  “Who are you to say who can and cannot have me?”

  His eyes grow cold again. He doesn't answer. Filled with anger, I keep going.

  “I don't answer to anyone, Dr. Alexander, and I'm sure as shit not anyone's whore, so do not address me as if you were my pimp!”

  His eyes blink rapidly then widens in shock.

  I am pissed off because of the insinuation and the fact that I still want to jump his bones. Who the hell does he think he is with his handsome self?

  Marcus takes a deep breath and finally speaks. “Mariah, Wexler is a predator. He has left broken hearts all over the fucking state. He lets his title, money and looks get him into any and every woman's bed. No woman is off limits at any time with him, regardless of her relationship status. I don't think you want to be a notch on his headboard,” he bites out at me.

  “Whatever bed I choose to lie in is my concern and my business only. I don't report to anyone, especially you!” I shout.

  I feel angry and hurt; and completely turned on. He's not you, Marcus, I want to shout. Yours is the only man's bed I want to be in. Disappointment enters my mind. I thought he knew that. Felt it, at least.

  Marcus' jaw clenches. “You will NOT go out with him!” he yells.

  “Get this straight, you arrogant ass!” I point at him. “I date who I want to date. I am not the one that's engaged!” I yell back.

  He looks at me again as if I've slapped him. His left hand is on his hip and he brings his right hand up to his chin and cups it. Slowly his index finger begins to rub his jaw. He is thinking deeply and glaring intently at me.

  Suddenly, he grabs my upper arms and hauls me into his hard chest. His mouth swoops to mine in a hard and pleading kiss. I resist at first but after a moment, I respond with vigor. He wraps his arms around my waist as I slide my fingers in his hair and pull him closer.

  The kiss slows, and we tease each other with our tongues, licking and tasting. His hands lower and cups my ass, urging me closer to him and I moan against his mouth. Every damn part of my body throbs and I can feel him grow against me.

  Just as suddenly as he started, he ends it. His hands grab my upper arms again and yanks me away. I look at him, panting, my chest heaving, begging for air. His breaths match mine. My eyes gaze into his asking, ‘why did you stop?’

  Because he's engaged, remember?

  His eyes don't respond; they have hardened again and hold my attention.

  “Stay away from Wexler,” he warns again.

  “You cannot tell me what to do, Dr. Alexander. I'll date whomever I want,” I respond, through clenched teeth, anger returning.

  Once again we start a staring contest. He breaks first.

  “We'll see about that,” he says menacingly, then turns and walks out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  Lisa appears from out of nowhere.

  “Okay, what the hell was that?” I say as I point toward the door.

  “I have no idea.” She reddens and starts looking everywhere but my face. “But Whew! That was some kiss! What was that like?”

  “Fire and ice,” I reply, my hand on my swollen, and now bare, lips.

  She giggles. “Yeah, that was definitely the way it looked.”

  I let out a big sigh. “I think we should go. We need rest for the first day tomorrow.” And I need to think about what just happened here.

  Lisa links arms with me. “Let's go find the parents so we can sa
y goodnight.”

  As we walk back to the sitting room, I notice William is talking heatedly on his cell in a far corner of the room. He turns and looks around the room with one hand on his head and locates me. He then gives me a look of what? Regret, maybe? Then shakes his head and walks out to through the large French doors.

  What the hell is happening with these men tonight?

  Excerpt from TheMSeries, Book Three:Marcus

  June 26, 2011

  “Dr. Alexander,” I snap into the phone. Damn it. I was just on my way to the Harveys so I can finally talk to Mariah. Seeing her with that asshole last night ripped me apart. I wanted to tear his fucking head off.

  This jealousy shit takes a lot to get used to.

  “Doctor, we have a twelve-year-old female, febrile and complaining of pain at McBurney's point.”

  “How long has she had the pain?” I ask getting off the elevator. A possible hot appendix; good thing I was already at the hospital on evening rounds.

  “Mother states she told her thirty to forty-five minutes ago, beyond that it's unclear.”

  I look around the ER. “Which bed is she in?”

  “Twelve, Doctor.”

  “Right,” I end the call, shrug out of my jacket and wash my hands. Moving the curtain with my elbow, I calmly address the parents.

  “I'm Dr. Alexander, pediatrician on call,” I inform as a nurse assists me in getting gowned and gloved. I walked around the bed and squatted to look the girl in her face. She is lying on her left side, in a fetal position.

  “Hello, sweetheart. What's your name?”

  “Kimmy Grier,” she whimpers.

  I smile at her. “Kimmy, I'm Dr. Alexander. I hear you're having some pain in your belly. Can you point to where?”

  She points two inches from her navel. “Here. I feel funny in my tummy. I need to throw up but I can't.”

  “It’s all right, Kimmy. Miss Wheeler, can we get an emesis basin, just in case? Kimmy, can you lie on your back for me, so I can feel around your belly?”

  “Are you gonna hurt me more?” she whimpers, her brown eyes bright with fear.