Lucky You!

By John Locke

Recently divorced single mom Corey Lane tries to start a new life while keeping her rebellious 19-year-old daughter in line. But it’s not easy considering the young college student seems to excel at all the wrong activities, including theft, cocaine addiction, and breaking up marriages. Indeed, the best scores Gwen Lane has received since arriving on campus are the glowing, five-star reviews she received as a teenage hooker working for a local escort service.

PRELIMINARY REVIEWS

“Crazy, creepy, wildly inappropriate—I loved it!”

“Most of today’s authors give you all the excitement of a petting zoo.
John Locke gives you a three-ring circus, a roller coaster, six dancing
bears, and a parade!”

“I thoroughly enjoyed this demented, yet addictive book. Couldn’t put
it down. Worried what that says about me!”

“Lucky You! is how you’ll feel if this is your first John Locke novel
because after devouring this page-turner you’ll find at least 40 more
to keep you entertained for many weeks to come! My personal
favorites are the Donovan Creed and Emmett Love collections.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Locke
• Release date: May 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781937656294

John Locke

John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

Book preview

Part One: Corey Lane

1.

CALM DOWN, COREY tells herself. It’s not a date, just a quick hello, a morning coffee, some awkward conversation, a few forced smiles. If you like him, great. If you don’t, you never have to see him again.

She checks herself in the mirror before heading out the door.

Now, in the Starbucks parking lot, she takes a deep breath, exits her car, enters the building and looks for the guy who said he’d be holding a rose, and…there!

First impression: great looking, but younger than advertised. Shit. Much younger! Corey frowns, tries to curb her anger. No need to question him, she knows exactly what this is. Young, rich stud, trying to bag a recently divorced MILF. When she approaches, he stands. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome and cute, muscular, shy grin, the whole package. In other words, a complete waste of her time.

I’m Jeff, he says. "And let me just say, Wow!"

Corey.

"You’re stunning!"

Maybe a few years ago. Not now. But thanks for making the effort to say so.

"No effort required. You’re gorgeous! Prettier than your photos, which seemed impossible until just now. He gestures toward the chairs. Shall we?"

She almost takes a seat. After all, it’s nice to hear someone pulling out all the stops, even if it’s no more than a prelude to getting another notch on his belt.

"Please," he repeats.

Corey hesitates, then sits. You lied about your age.

I did.

Why?

I didn’t think you’d go out with me if I told you my true age.

Which is?

Twenty-eight.

Bullshit. Try again. Except this time, I’ll want to see your driver’s license.

Fine. I’m twenty-two. But age is just a number.

Yes, it is. And yours is terribly embarrassing for me.

He smiles. Doesn’t have to be. Look, Corey, the moment I saw your dating profile I knew you were special.

Please don’t call me by my first name.

Why not?

Because we’re not going to date. This whole thing was a mistake.

For which I totally apologize. However— He flashes a practiced smile. We’re here now, so maybe we can find some common ground despite the age difference. I agree I haven’t earned the right to call you Corey yet, but I’d like to. In the meantime, what name would you like me to use?

Ms. Lane.

He laughs, holds out his hand. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lane.

Bypassing the handshake, she says, Jeff? I appreciate the effort, but this isn’t going to work.

"You can’t possibly say that! You don’t even know me!"

Let’s turn it around. If I walked in here 48 years old instead of 36, weighing 220 instead of 120, you’d have no problem telling me it’s not going to work.

True, but that’s apples and oranges because you don’t look 36. You could easily pass for someone much closer to my age.

Does effusive flattery really work on older women?

He frowns. Not sure what effusive means, but it’s not flattery. If I didn’t find you attractive, I wouldn’t have held up the rose.

You originally wanted me to join you for dinner at your country club.

I did, and still do.

Whose membership is it, you’re dad’s?

He shrugs. "Why does that matter?"

Are you being serious right now? I’ve got a 19-year-old daughter at home!

I thought you said she’s away at college.

She showed up last night out of the blue.

Did something happen?

Obviously. Corey shakes her head. That’s…look, I don’t know why I told you that. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but Spring Break starts Friday, so she’s only missing a few days. But, again, this doesn’t involve you. No offense.

If you’re worried your daughter won’t approve of us dating, we don’t have to tell her right away.

Jeff?

Yeah?

We’re not going to date.

Why not?

"I’m not going to date a man that’s three years older than my daughter. I’m just not."

Why? It’s a different world, now, Paige. Lots of women are—

"Omigod! Did you just call me Paige? Seriously?"

He laughs. I think I did. My bad! He laughs again. What can I say? That shit happens all the time right after relationships end. I’m sure you’ll call me by your ex-husband’s name from time to time.

Don’t count on it. Before I go, I would like to ask you one question.

Shoot. But please don’t go.

What’s the oldest woman you’ve slept with?

Whoa! That’s rather personal, don’t you think?

Yes, it is. But since you lied about your age, I think I’m entitled to an honest answer.

Forty-eight.

Corey shakes her head. That’s…disgusting. She pauses. I assume we’re talking about Paige?

Eleanore.

I see. And how old was Paige?

Forty-five.

Is there any chance I’m on hidden camera and you’re a TV host?

None at all.

Corey stands. Then, this is absurd. A complete waste of time. Please don’t contact me again. You’re not what I’m looking for.

Oh, no?

No. Not remotely. Sorry.

She turns, starts walking toward the exit.

Jeff jumps to his feet and closes the distance. As she opens the door he’s right behind her ear, whispering, "And what exactly are you looking for, Cunt?"

Corey whirls around and slaps his face.

Jeff makes a fist and nearly uses it but catches himself.

Charming, she says.

2.

DIVORCE IS A bitch, but adultery’s worse. What was it that Jeff said? Age is just a number? Well, Corey knows all about numbers: she was pregnant at 16. Barely seventeen when Gwen was born. Twenty-eight when she married Bennett. Thirty-one when she caught him cheating the first time. Thirty-four when she caught him the last time. Thirty-five when their divorce became final. Now, at thirty-six, she finally spun the dating wheel, and it landed on Jeff.

Could have been worse.

Had she agreed to the date Jeff insisted upon, she would have had to explain to Gwen where she was going all dressed up. After learning he was only 22, it would have been beyond rude to ditch him at the country club, which means she would have had to suffer at least two hours of his shameless flattery. Finally, she’d have to endure the embarrassment of explaining to Gwen why the date went badly. By agreeing only to a coffee date, she avoided all the hassle. Now, he’s officially in her past and no one’s the wiser.

Twenty-two years old?

How could she be so stupid? The pictures made him look young, but not that young. She’d been concerned when he claimed to be 34, so of course it infuriated her to see a spoiled, twenty-two-year old who’s at least a year past the frat boy expiration date.

What a cliché! While not as disgusting as divorce lawyers who seduce their vulnerable clients after celebrating the decree, these young studs lurk on the Internet, waiting for the opportunity to crowbar their way into the lives of shattered women who desperately yearn for affection. Corey knows the first question newly divorced women ask is will anyone ever love me again? These young bastards know exactly what to say to make us feel wanted. Of course, a big part of the allure is getting back at the ex, as in, "Look who I’m fucking!" But as soon as the next hot mom shows up on a dating site the last one’s dumped like garbage.

Bitter, much?

Of course, she is. Because this isn’t Corey’s first frat boy rodeo. Before getting her pregnant twenty years ago, Rick Satterfield was today’s Jeff, except that Rick took advantage of underage girls instead of middle-age divorcees. Like Jeff, Rick had the looks, charm, poise, and patter. His father was extremely wealthy. Like Jeff, Rick also had a temper, which is typical for spoiled frat studs used to getting everything in life they desire. In Corey’s experience, none of these frat boy studs handle rejection well. Not that they’re often rejected. By way of proof, after knocking her up, Rick moved to Maryland, joined his father’s law firm, became a famous prosecutor, and was elected Attorney General of Maryland.

Corey feels badly for the divorced women who suffer physical and emotional pain at the hands of these slime buckets. Someone should do something about guys like Jeff.

She sighs, turns into her driveway, pushes the remote, and waits for the door to open. When it does, she inches forward, parks, and presses the remote a second time.

But the garage door remains open. She looks in the rear-view mirror and discovers the reason for the interruption: there’s a man standing behind her, preventing the door from closing! When he steps forward, the door starts closing behind him.

Frozen with panic, her body fails to react. Lock the doors! her brain screams, but before she can locate the lock button, it’s too late. The man has already opened the passenger door. Now he’s leaning in, pointing a gun at her face. Let’s go inside, shall we?

Thinking only of Gwen, Corey says, "Please! Take my wallet. I have some cash and two credit cards. I won’t report you."

Inside, he says. I won’t ask you again.

3.

NOW, IN THE kitchen, he asks, Where is she?

Who?

Your daughter.

He knows Gwen? Who the fuck is he?

She’s not here.

"That’s not what I asked. I know she’s not here, Bitch. But she was, until quite recently. So recently, in fact, she didn’t have time to take her car. We both know this, since it’s still in your garage."

I have no idea where she is. What do you want with her?

Poor Mom, he says. "I guess it’s true what they say: the parents are always the last to know. And based on what I know about sweet little Gwennie, I’m sure your brain must be overloaded with horrific possibilities. Am I her boyfriend? Her lover? Her husband? Her drug dealer? No. Your daughter’s evil, Ms. Lane. And my connection to her is so much worse than anything you can imagine."

He looks around the room until his eyes settle on the knife block.

Please, Corey whispers. Whatever she’s done, we can find a way to make it right.

If nothing else, her comment seems to have taken his mind off the knives. "Well, I’m glad you said that, Ms. Lane. Unfortunately, no one can make it right. But there is a way to make it better."

Whatever that is, please tell me. And please don’t harm Gwen. If she’s done something wrong, I’m certain it wasn’t on purpose.

He takes a deep breath. You seem like a reasonable person, but you’re dead wrong about that. In the future, don’t defend her unless you want to piss me off. She’s not innocent. Everything she did was deliberate. She knows exactly why I’m looking for her, and that’s why she bolted. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s watching the house right now. And she’s not coming back till she knows I’ve gone. He pauses. Think about that, before you try to defend her. She knew I was coming, knew you’d be here all alone, and yet she’s sitting tight, refusing to help you.

Corey drops to her knees. Please don’t hurt Gwen.

"Gwen’s not here. I can’t hurt her. All I’ve got is you. Seeing something in the window, he says, Stay right where you are and don’t move a muscle."

He walks through the kitchen, to the foyer, and opens the front door. Corey knows because her burglar alarm pings every time a door is opened. She runs to the garage, presses the wall remote, jumps in her car, locks the doors, and backs out of the garage as fast as possible.

And of course, the gunman sees her, but he’s busy dealing with the person he saw through the window. Thank God it’s not Gwen.

Oddly enough, it’s Jeff the frat boy.

4.

AS COREY BACKS out of the driveway to the road, she sees the man pushing Jeff, trying to get away from him, but Jeff’s fighting back. Corey tries to decide if she should call 911 or Gwen.

She chooses Gwen.

Mom!

"Gwen! Where are you?"

Your car’s facing the wrong way. Turn around, drive a block and pick me up.

Stay on the phone!

"I can’t! Just…hurry!"

Corey pulls forward into the driveway, backs out the opposite way, and races to the end of the street. In her rearview mirror, she sees the gunman, running toward her. She lowers the window and screams for her daughter. When the man’s practically on top of her, she floors the gas pedal and roars away.

Moments later, Gwen calls. It’s alright, Mom. I’m okay. I had to go a different way.

"Where are you?"

You remember the neighbor that got kidnapped? Mrs. Everly?

What about her?

"I’ll meet you in front of her house in five