Love is for the Fearless: Sisterhood of the Sorority House Rejects, #1

By M.K. Dawn

I never planned on moving back home after college.

Small towns like mine are full of gossipy busy-bodies and ex-football stars who are treated like Gods.

Prime example: Liam Wells. Cocky and infuriating. The kind of guy I try to avoid.

Not that he ever gave a girl like me a second glance, anyway.

Until now.

Every time I turn around, Liam is there. Inching his way into my life in the most unexpected ways.

But I have big plans for my future.

None of which includes falling in love.

Three months and I'll wave goodbye to this small-town life forever.

Nothing or no one will stop me from pursuing my dreams.

Because love isn't everything.

Or is it?

 

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This is a full-length, standalone novel, first book in the Sisterhood of the Sorority House Rejects series. Each book can be read in any order, but some characters make appearances in other books in the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.K. Dawn
• Release date: Jul 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393289944

M.K. Dawn

M.K. Dawn was born and raised in San Antonio, Texas. She now lives south of town on a cattle ranch with her husband, two kids, seven dogs, and a rabbit. When she's not writing, she can be found driving her kids around to after-school activities, decorating cakes and watching as much Netflix as she can. But her all-time favorite hobby will always and forever be reading.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Brie

Ilean against the steering wheel and glare at the Welcome to Upland, Texas sign mocking my return. The blinking red lights a couple of miles outside of my hometown serve as a warning for what’s to come.

When I left for college four years ago, I swore I’d never come back to this hick town for anything more than a visit. Six months ago, while sitting around the Christmas tree opening presents and drinking eggnog, I very calmly informed Mom and Dad I would be searching for employment in another, bigger, more exciting city.

And they lost their ever-loving minds.

The crying, the begging, the emotional breakdown—mostly coming from Dad—had sent me spiraling into a vortex of guilt. Even my best friends in the world, the girls of the Sisterhood of the Sorority House Rejects, couldn’t save me. They’d spent months trying to come up with an excuse for me to get out of moving back home. None worked. Some even made things worse.

The car behind me honks, startling me back to the present. I glance in the rearview mirror and wave at Shelby, Courtney, and Taylor, who volunteered to help me with the move. The girls laugh as they contort their faces in all sorts of silly and obscene ways. They know how much I dread moving back and do what they can to cheer me up.

Taylor had spent the majority of the drive riding with me, but the closer we got to town, the more my anxiety grew. By the time we reached the last gas station, I had kicked Taylor out of the car and insisted on driving the rest of the way alone. I needed time to think, to cry, to scream. None of which I wanted to do in front of my closest friends.

With a trembling foot, I ease off the brake. The only good thing about moving back home is not having to find somewhere to live. Ten years ago, my grandmother passed away and left her house to Dad, who couldn’t bear to sell his childhood home. After six months of remodeling, the house went up for rent and has been occupied by the same couple ever since. That is, until three months ago when the tenants up and moved out.

While most people would have seen that as good luck, maybe even a sign that this move was meant to be, I did not. The more logical explanation was Mom and Dad had forced the poor couple out so they could use free rent as a way to entice me home. Which it did. I had student loans out my ass and not having a rent payment would make a huge difference.

Damn them and their sneaky ways.

I back into the driveway of the small two-bedroom cottage style house and park next to the moving truck Mom insisted on hiring for the week. The little white house brought a lot of fond memories. Grandma Laurence had always been my favorite relative. She was by far the most normal of the bunch. While most everyone else in my family fought for the title of the busy body of the year, Grandma Laurence never pried, never shared secrets, and always did what she could to make sure my feelings were heard and understood.

Wow. Shelby flips her brown layered hair out of her pale face. It’s…quaint.

Well, it’s an old house. I cock my head and stare at the house I love so much. You don’t like it?

Taylor slides her arm through the crook of my elbow and pushes her silver-rimmed round glasses back up her nose. Of course we like the house. It’s perfect for you.

Plus, you have so many amazing memories here. Courtney pulls me into a tight, sideways hug.

I’ve known Courtney for as long as I can remember. Her parents and mine went to high school together and bought houses down the street from each other. Our moms even got pregnant at the same time. The difference between our parents? Courtney’s have always encouraged her to branch out on her own and find her place in the world. Mine believe in smothering and guilt until there is nothing left but submission.

Remember how we used to play Barbies on the porch, and she would bring us endless glasses of ice-cold lemonade? Courtney reminisces. It was the best I’ve ever tasted.

That’s because she used half a pound of sugar to sweeten it. Tears burn my eyes. Most of the time I can think back on the time I spent with Grandma and smile. But every once in a while, a memory opens up the old wound the loss had left on my heart.

Taylor intertwines her fingers with mine and gives my hand a quick squeeze. Let’s go inside. These cars aren’t going to unload themselves, and it’s only going to get hotter.

I glance between the rental and our two cars. How I managed to accumulate so much stuff in four years, I’d never know. This is going to take all weekend.

That’s why I brought wine. Shelby jiggles the bag hung on her shoulder, clinking the bottles together. The cheap stuff, too. No fancy shit for us.

Courtney sniffs the air, her white-blond hair cascading down her back. "Do you smell that? I think one of your neighbors is barbecuing. Maybe it’s a cute, single guy. They love to grill."

I jab the key in the door and unlock the house. In this subdivision? I doubt it. This has been an unofficial retirement community since it was built thirty years ago.

Old people die, Shelby smirks, wagging her eyebrows. She has the darkest sense of humor of anyone else in the group by far.

Oh, my God! Taylor’s mouth drops open. I can’t believe you just said that.

Shelby snorts. Yes you can. And you love me for it.

Courtney inhales again. Lord, I’m starving. I say we unpack the cars real quick and grab some food. Maybe a couple of rounds of margaritas to go with it.

I push open the door and flip on the hall light. How about we order in and—

Surprise! People shout in unison.

Jesus! I stumble backward, hand clutching my chest. What the hell are y’all doing here?

My mom, Bernadette, rushes toward me, arms open. My baby is home at last! Come here and give your mama a hug.

Like I have a choice. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes so tight I can barely breathe. Mom, why are there people in my house?

She breaks our embrace and cups my cheeks. This is your welcome home surprise party.

Along with Mom and Dad, my sister Megan, her husband, and their two kids wait in the living room. Behind them are a dozen more people, who I kind of know, but not really. I don’t consider any of them friends; they’re more so Mom and Dad’s friends who never paid much attention to me when I was growing up.

Dad shoots me a little wave and wipes a tear from his cheek. I love him dearly, but I am going to kill him if he starts crying.

Daddy, my sister, Megan, shoves her baby girl, Emma, into his arms. Why don’t you take the kids and the rest of our guests outside? You know, since that’s where the party’s going to be. There are plenty of snacks on the table and beer in the ice chest.

I could use a cold one. Dad makes silly faces at Emma. It’s hot as hell out there.

Yes, it is. Make sure you turn on the fans. Megan pats him on the back then proceeds to usher the other guests out the back door. Come on, everybody. Let the graduate get settled into her new home.

I mouth a thank you to her. We might not always get along, but she understands how much our parents tend to smother.

Mom, I attempt to keep my voice calm, I told you I didn’t want a welcome home party.

Oh, please. She waves a hand in the air. When your sister came home from college, she practically begged me to throw her a party. And what a party that was! The talk of the town for weeks. Of course, we had to rent the clubhouse at the country club because of all of Megan’s friends.

Well, that didn’t take long. No matter the subject, somehow my life always got compared to that of my perfect older sister.

As I open my mouth to say something snarky, Courtney grasps my arm and whispers into my ear, Don’t. It’s not worth it.

I force a smile. You’re right, Mom, as always. This party is perfect and just what I wanted. I assume there’s food and drinks?

Food’s in the kitchen. Sodas and beer are in the ice chests outside. Mom wraps an arm around my waist and guides me to one of the two loveseats. Girls, come on. Make yourselves comfortable. I want to chat a bit before going outside.

Courtney takes a seat next to me while Shelby and Taylor take the other loveseat.

Now that you’re settled, how about some iced tea?

Iced tea wasn’t going to cut it. What about your famous sangria? She never hosted or attended a party without it.

Sangria? She pauses at the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand.

Is that a problem, Mom? I mean, we’re all old enough to drink.

And Brie has told us how delicious your sangria is, Shelby adds. We’ve all been dying to try it.

Well, I guess one glass wouldn’t hurt.

The four of us chuckle as Mom pours us each a cup.

Courtney. Mom makes her way back into the living room, four red solo cups on a serving platter. I was so sad to hear that your parents couldn’t make it today.

Yeah, Courtney sips on her drink. They’re in Greece right now on a cruise.

Mom settles next to Courtney on the love seat, squashing us both. Aren’t you supposed to be with them?

I fly out next weekend to meet them in Paris. Then we’ll be traveling around Europe with their best friends and kids, who we haven’t seen in like ten years.

Mom sighs. An entire summer in Europe. I can’t even imagine.

Five years ago, Courtney’s family came into a butt-load of oil money, like stupid-rich money. They rarely flaunted their new-found wealth, but, on occasion, they did do crazy things like summer-long vacations or lavish Christmas parties for the entire town.

Courtney taps her turquoise fingernails against her cup. Talking about her family’s money always makes her uncomfortable. I’m sure it’ll be fun.

Where are you staying in Paris? Mom presses. Somewhere luxurious?

Taylor clears her throat; she was never one to be impolite, but she had a knack for knowing when one of her friends needed saving. Sorry, I was sitting here wondering...Brie, are these your couches from school? The ones from the moving truck?

I gasp, literally, gasp as I take in the room. Oh, my God. OH. MY. GOD! Mother! You didn’t! Oh, my God, you did! You unpacked my stuff?

"Well, of course I did. Couldn’t let your things sit out there for a week with no one watching after them. Might as well put up a free sign."

You unpacked my stuff? I repeat. Went through my boxes? Put away my stuff? Why would you do that?

Brie, Courtney warns in a low whisper, let it go.

Mom shrugs half-heartedly. It was no trouble. The movers were already here and for an extra hundred dollars, they were more than happy to unload the truck.

Unload. Fine. I take a long drink of my sangria. Thank God I had opted to move all my personal stuff myself. But to unpack my stuff? That’s crossing a line, Mom, even for you.

Pish-posh. With a wave of her hand, she heads into the kitchen and begins laying out the few serving utensils I own.

Mom! I follow, desperately needing to refill my sangria. This conversation is not over.

I don’t understand why you’re in such a huff over this? Think of all the time I saved you! Plus, you can’t have boxes laying around with company over.

I didn’t ask to have company over, I say through clenched teeth.

Mom groans. You are the most ungrateful child I’ve ever met.

Before I have a chance to argue, the back door bursts open and Dad sticks his head inside. Hamburgers are done! Time to eat.

Great! Mom gathers the serving utensils. I’ll get the potato salad from the fridge, and we’ll be right out.

I position myself in front of the fridge, blocking her from opening the door. I’m not through talking about this.

Brie, move out of the way, you’re acting like a child.

Is it really too much to ask that you respect my privacy and execute a little bit of self-restraint when it comes to controlling my life?

Mom’s hand flies to her chest. Controlling your life? Controlling your life? I would never. I’m just trying to help you, my youngest daughter. Speaking of helping you…I got you a job interview at the bank.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. How can she not see this is exactly what I’m talking about? I told you I was going to find a seasonal, summer job, because I’m only staying in town until the fall.

That’s why this job is perfect! Mom squeals. You’ll be the financial adviser at First National Bank.

I turn to my friends in hopes one of them will speak up and help me out of this mess. No such luck. With huge smiles splashed across their faces, they’re enjoying this way too much.

That doesn’t sound like a seasonal job, Mom.

You would be filling in for the financial adviser, Mary Ann. You remember her, she graduated a few years before you? Anyways, she’s about to go on maternity leave and will be out all summer.

Even though it sounded like a great opportunity, I want, no, need, to do this on my own. Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to pass.

Pass? Mom sticks her hands on her hips. This is what you went to school for, correct?

I minored in finance, I grumble. My degree is in nonprofit management.

See, the job is perfect. I went to a lot of trouble getting you this interview, Brie Laurence. Called in a lot of favors at the church. The least you can do is be grateful. I will not have you embarrassing me in front of our friends by turning down this opportunity. Monday morning, eight a.m. sharp. Don’t be late. You might want to go shopping; your wardrobe is severely lacking. Seriously, honey, how in the world did you ever expect to find a respectable job with the clothes you have? Now move, your guests are waiting.

Fine. I snatch the pitcher of sangria off the counter and pour myself a second glass. Get your potato salad, and we’ll be out in a minute.

That’s the spirit!

As soon as Mom is out the door, I plop back on the couch and gulp down half my sangria. I never should have agreed to move back.

My friends snuggle up beside me on the couch.

Courtney takes my hand. It’s only for three months. You’ll find a job, be too busy to see your parents. Hell, maybe you’ll even find a hot summer fling.

God, no. I take another large drink. I guarantee there’s not a man in this town that I would ever even consider looking twice at let alone date.

Who said anything about dating? Shelby smirks. Just someone to have hot, sweaty sex with. You know, the kind that makes your toes curl.

Taylor swats at Shelby. Stop that. Brie has big plans for her future; she doesn’t need a guy screwing that up.

Shelby rolls her eyes. You do know that a woman can have both a love life and a career, right?

Not in this town, I mumble, the sangria finally kicking in. This town looks down on working moms. Talks about them behind their backs. Shuns them to the point of disgrace.

Courtney chuckles. And on that note, I think it’s time for us to get some food.

Food will only ruin my sangria buzz, I pout.

Don’t worry, Shelby holds out her hand to help me off the couch, we’ll get you more sangria. You just need a hamburger to go with it.

We don’t want you to make a fool out of yourself in front of all your mom’s friends, Taylor adds.

Trust me, I don’t have to open my mouth for things to get worse. All I have to do is breathe and the entire town will be gossiping about it for weeks.

Stopping being so dramatic. Courtney leads me toward the back door. It’s not that bad. Just keep to yourself and stay away from the town celebrities.

Taylor scrunches her nose. Town celebrities? You’re kidding right?

Past homecoming queens, star athletics, I say, typical small-town hero worshiping.

Shelby snorts. So the opposite of who we are and what we stand for. Definitely stay away from those people.

Oh, you can make damn sure I will.

Chapter 2

Liam

H ey, Liam, man. Arlo peeks his shaggy head in the door. Got a second?

I lean back in my office chair and thread my fingers behind my head, ready for whatever craziness the conversation with Arlo would bring. Come on in and take a seat.

Thanks, man. Arlo strolls into my office and plops down on the beanbag chair Dad kept in there for his hippie friend.

A full minute passes before I decide we will both be better off if I start the conversation. So, you wanted to talk to me about something?

Arlo stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle. I saw you at the desk, your head down and all, and I was like, whoa, is that the ghost of Frankie?

I try not to flinch at the use of Dad’s name. He died suddenly two years ago from a massive heartache but some days, in his office especially, it felt like no time had passed. Did you need something Arlo? I love the guy like an uncle, but he embodies the hippie lifestyle like nobody else I’ve ever met before.

Arlo scrunches his sun-aged forehead. That’s right, man. I did come in here for a reason. Damn old-age catching up with me.

Whatever it is Arlo came in here to tell me, I’m going to have to coax it out of him. If he hadn’t been Dad’s best friend and most loyal employee, I would have fired him the day I took over. And that reason would be?

Right. Arlo nodded. Mable sent me up here. Had to leave, sick daughter or something.

Doubtful. Mable, my operational manager, is a forty-seven-year-old woman who has spent her life fostering and adopting out guinea pigs instead of having kids. And what did Mable ask you to tell me?

Arlo’s eyes droop. Let me tell you, man, she had me running around all over the park.

Is there a problem?

I don’t think so, man. All the guests cleared out just before closing.

Are you sure? I grab my phone and text Mable.

Checked the numbers myself.

Last time Mable left you in charge of checking the numbers, two guests were locked inside the park.

Arlo raises his hands in defense. Hey, man. That wasn’t my fault. They hacked the computers or something.

Mable’s text flashes on my screen, confirming she checked the numbers and only sent Arlo up to let me know she’d left for the evening.

All right. Well, thanks for letting me know. I close my laptop, stuff my phone in my pocket, and grab my duffle bag. Time to go.

Arlo pops off the floor like a twenty-year-old. Got a hot date tonight, do ya?

No. I shoo him out the door. Sand volleyball.

Arlo laughs. No, man. You have volleyball on Sundays. It’s Saturday.

No. I lock my office and head down the stairs. It’s Sunday.

Arlo gasps. For real? Am I scheduled to work on Sundays?

You’re not. We cross the park to the employee parking lot. But just think of today as a make up for the all days you never showed up when you were supposed to work.

Cool, man.

We stop at my new truck, and I throw my bag in the back. Need a ride?

Nope. Got my bicycle over there. Nothing like free transportation.

Thank God we live in a small town and Arlo’s single wide isn’t more than a few blocks away. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

"Monday,