My feet immediately come to a stop, and I whirl around to face him.

  “What did you do?” I whisper angrily as Ariel and Belle flank me on either side.

  “What did I do?” he asks, anger filling his voice. “What did you do? I found out all about your little stripping business and the man you’ve allowed to stay under my roof with our impressionable daughter. What kind of an example are you setting for her? Like I said, Dad took care of it. He spoke to that guy and told him your husband was home and he needed to back off and give us time to be a family again.”

  My heart drops into my stomach and my hands start to shake with so much rage and hurt that there’s no way I’m going to be able to contain it. Everything that happened the night I went to PJ’s house comes crashing back into my head all and once, and my body starts to sway. I feel Ariel wrap her arm around my waist to hold me steady.

  “I can’t come between a family, Cin.”

  “Don’t you dare change for him. You stay the same sexy, independent, amazing woman you are, do you hear me?”

  I remember everything he said that night, and now it all makes sense. Now I know why he’s been avoiding me. Now I know why he left me alone in his bed after I’d drunkenly shown up at his house. I remember everything he said, and I also remember everything I didn’t say.

  “How could you?” I snarl at him.

  Pulling my hand back, I let it fly, punching my fist into his arm.

  “Ow! What was that for? What has gotten into you, Cynthia?” Brian complains, rubbing the spot where I just hit him.

  “Pull the fucking stick out of your ass, Brian!” I tell him.

  “That’s my girl,” Ariel says, giving me a pat on the back.

  “That strip club is an amazing business that employs single mothers, like me.”

  “You’re not single, you have me,” Brian replies, softening his voice. “That man was a bad influence on you and our daughter, obviously. Look at the way you’re dressed, and the way you’re speaking to me. It’s unbecoming, Cynthia.”

  Ariel’s arms fly right back around my waist and hold me back when I try to dive toward Brian and punch his stupid, chlamydia-eyed face. One of my sparkly shoes flies off of my foot and lands God knows where as I try and jerk myself out of her arms.

  After a few seconds of struggling, I finally give up the fight and shrug out of her hold, limp-walking right up to Brian on the one shoe I still have on.

  “You son of a bitch,” I growl. “You pathetic, stupid, son of a bitch. How dare you make a decision like that? How dare you stick your nose into MY personal business like that?”

  “I’m your husband!” he shouts, obviously no longer caring about the crowd that is watching everything go down.

  “You WERE my husband, and it was the most miserable thirteen years of my life! You made the choice to leave. You made the choice to serve me with divorce papers and run away with your little bimbo babysitter. You abandoned your daughter and left us with nothing, and now you have to live with those mistakes.”

  I feel more alive right now than I have in the last week. I forgot how good it felt to stand up for myself.

  “Yes, I met a man who owns a strip club, and he’s been the best influence I’ve ever had. I met a man who makes me feel alive for the first time in my life.” I swallow back the tears that have started to blur my vision and keep going. “I’m so, desperately, breathlessly, heart-stoppingly in love with a man who lets me be who I want to be, never judges me, never looks at me with anything but pride, never makes me feel like I’m not good enough, and would walk away from something pretty fucking amazing just because he thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

  I can’t stop the sob that flies out of my mouth, missing PJ so much that everything hurts.

  “You would honestly pick him over me?” Brian asks in disbelief, clearly not hearing one word I just said to him.

  “I would pick him over anyone. He gave me everything you never could and never will because you are a pathetic excuse for a man. He gave me understanding and he gave me confidence and you know what else he gave me? ORGASMS!” I shout.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Ariel mutters from next to me.

  “You couldn’t find my clit with a flashlight and Google Maps!”

  My amazing speech suddenly goes downhill fast, but I don’t even care. I’m so tired. Tired of Brian and all of his bullshit, tired of missing PJ, and just tired of all of this.

  “You love me?”

  My body turns in a flash when I hear the voice that has the power to bring me to my knees.

  Chapter 32: Prince Charming

  PJ is standing behind me wearing a black tuxedo that looks like it was made for him, with a regular tie, like a normal man.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper in shock, my heart practically beating out of my chest at the sight of him.

  “The club donates a lot of money to the APL. They asked me to be a keynote speaker,” he tells me with a shrug, moving closer until I can smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body.

  “Excuse me, Cynthia and I are in the middle of something,” Brian complains.

  “SHUT UP, BRIAN!” PJ and I yell at the same time, looking away from my ex and back to staring at each other.

  “You look absolutely stunning. That dress was made for you,” he says softly, moving even closer, until we’re toe to toe and his chest brushes up against mine.

  “How much of that did you hear?” I ask, wondering if I should even bother being mortified by all the things that came flying out of my mouth in the last few minutes.

  “I showed up right around ‘Pull the fucking stick out of your ass, Brian.’ You’ve got a scary right hook,” he tells me with a smile, the dimple in his cheek making me want to lean in and kiss it, but I’m still a little bit mad at him.

  His hand comes up between us and he presses his palm to the side of my face, rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

  “Are you really in love with me?” he whispers.

  I nuzzle his hand before looking back up into his eyes.

  “Of course I am, you idiot. I’m so in love with you it scares the hell out of me. But you left,” I remind him.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he apologizes. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Vincent came into the club spouting off all of this shit about family and togetherness, and all I could think about was you in my car that day you met my mom and how all you wanted was a family. I couldn’t be the one to get in the way of that. I couldn’t be the one to take something away from you that you’d always wanted, even if it pissed me off and I knew that motherfucker didn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you. I knew you’d never go back to him in a million years, but he’s Anastasia’s father. I didn’t want to get in the middle of that and confuse her. I don’t have any rights to her, and I don’t want her ever thinking she needs to choose between me and him. I adore her, and I adore her mother, and I just didn’t want to make things harder on either one of you and make her feel guilty for choosing that piece of absolute shit she has for a father.”

  “Hey!” Brian complains from somewhere behind me.

  “Seriously, shut the fuck up, Brian!”

  All of us turn and stare in astonishment at Belle.

  “Sorry! This is all just so romantic, I don’t want anything ruining it,” she explains, giving us a wave to carry on.

  PJ turns back to face me.

  “When Vincent told me that asshole wanted to spend as much time with Anastasia as possible and didn’t want any distractions getting in the way of them repairing their relationship, I knew I needed to give you both some space and stepped back.”

  I reach between us and grab the lapels of his tux jacket, pulling him closer to me.

  “Fine, so you had to take a step back from my daughter, but what about me? Why did you take a step back from me?” I ask, my voice cracking with emotion.

  PJ leans his head down and presses his forehead against mine.

&nbsp
; “Because I’m so in love with you it scares the hell out of me,” he replies, repeating the words I just said to him. “And I didn’t want to get in the middle of this and make things more confusing for you.”

  “I’m sorry, but do you just expect me to stand here and watch the two of you profess your love for each other? What about me?!” Brian exclaims, interrupting our moment.

  With an angry growl, I pull my face away from PJ’s hand and look back over my shoulder at him.

  “I really don’t give a shit, Brian. Go find another babysitter to screw, or someone to help you pull that giant stick out of your ass.”

  I turn my face back to PJ’s to find him staring angrily over at Brian.

  “Hey, it’s fine. He’s not worth it,” I tell him softly.

  “Look, I know you’re more than capable of fighting your own battles, and watching you go off on him was so fucking hot. But I need to do something, and I’m gonna need you to forgive me as soon as I do it.”

  With that, PJ marches over to Brian, pulls his fist back and punches him in the nose.

  Brian’s head flies back with the force of the hit, and he drops down to the ground, screaming the whole way, clutching his nose as the blood pours out of it.

  “He broke my nose!” Brian cries, curling up in the fetal position on the ground as the crowd around us just stairs at the pathetic, sobbing baby on the floor. “I was held captive by animals for months, and I bravely escaped and made my way back to my family, and this Neanderthal breaks my nose!”

  Brian puts on a pathetic show, making sure his voice can be heard all the way across the room, in case his parents might hear him.

  PJ leans over him as he continues to whimper and moan in pain and complain about the horrors he went through in another country, finally shutting up when PJ gets within inches of his face.

  “That’s for giving her thirteen years of misery, making her be something she wasn’t just to please you, screwing her over and leaving her with nothing, and walking away from the most amazing, bright, sarcastic teenage girl I’ve ever met. And for the love of God, man, learn where the clitoris is.”

  PJ shakes out his hand and walks back over to me, bending over and scooping something up in his hands, but I’m too busy staring at his face in awe to see what it is.

  When he’s back in front of me, he immediately gets down on one knee and smiles up at me. My mouth drops open in shock, and my eyes get so wide, I’m surprised they don’t pop out of my head.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” I whisper loudly.

  We may have just professed our love for each other, but there is no way in hell we’re ready for this. I don’t even know what the hell PJ stands for!

  With a twinkle in his eye, PJ reaches out and grabs my shoeless foot, pulling it onto his knee.

  “Slow your roll there, princess. Just making sure this fits.”

  He slides my sparkly blue shoe I lost during my meltdown onto my foot, quickly standing up and wrapping his arms around my waist, tugging me against him.

  “You’re my knight in shining armor,” I tell him with a smile, as he leans down and kisses me.

  Pulling my head back, I look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “I think I’ve earned the right to know what PJ stands for now, so give it up, buddy.”

  With a huge sigh, he tilts his head to the side, squeezing me tightly to him.

  “Princeton James Charming,” he mumbles.

  All I can do is stand here in amazement, blinking rapidly as Ariel and Belle move to stand next to us.

  “Oh my. He’s your Prince Charming,” Belle says with a dreamy sigh.

  “Hey, Cindy. What’s your middle name?” Ariel asks.

  “Ella. Cynthia Ella,” I whisper, staring up at PJ with wide eyes.

  “Cindy Ella and Prince Charming! It’s like a fairy tale!” Belle exclaims.

  “But does it have a happy ending?” PJ asks as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  “It sure as hell does,” I tell him, clasping my hands together behind his head and bringing his mouth down to mine.

  About the Author

  Author photograph © Tina Redinger

  Tara Sivec is a USA Today bestselling author and was the Best Indie Author at the Indie Romance Convention Reader’s Choice Awards in 2014. She lives in Ohio with her husband and two children.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Find a Job and Pay for Herpes

  Chapter 2: I Tripped and Fell on His Penis

  Chapter 3: Life Sucks. Men Really Suck.

  Chapter 4: Your Stick Is Showing Again, Asshole

  Chapter 5: Take It Off!

  Chapter 6: It’s Time to Get My Hands Dirty

  Chapter 7: A Prude, a Mouth, and a Librarian Walk into a Strip Club . . .

  Chapter 8: Forget About Dicks, I’m Switching to Chicks

  Chapter 9: Hanson Sucks!

  Chapter 10: Stripper Glitter Boobs

  Chapter 11: Clone-a-Willy

  Chapter 12: Does Your Wife Know Where You Are Tonight?

  Chapter 13: Just Sit There and Look Pretty

  Chapter 14: Chlamydia Eye

  Chapter 15: Hairy Troll Vagina

  Chapter 16: I Think We Broke Princess Barbie

  Chapter 17: Nipple Nut Clusters

  Chapter 18: Pablo Jessabelle

  Chapter 19: The Naughty Princess Club

  Chapter 20: Tit Sweat

  Chapter 21: Jazz Hands

  Chapter 22: I Want to Lick Your Balls

  Chapter 23: Make Momma Some Money!

  Chapter 24: Golden Shower Man

  Chapter 25: Don’t Make an Ass of Yourself

  Chapter 26: Speaking of Sex . . .

  Chapter 27: Human Ficus Tree

  Chapter 28: I More Than Like You

  Chapter 29: Mexican Drug Lords

  Chapter 30: Drunk Princess

  Chapter 31: They’re Called Tits, Brian

  Chapter 32: Prince Charming

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  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT. Copyright © 2018 by Tara Sivec. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Danielle Mazzella Di Bosco

  Cover photographs: man © kiuikson/Shutterstock.com; woman © Look Studio/Shutterstock.com; background © djgis/Shutterstock.com

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-13720-3 (ebook)

  First Edition: February 2018

  Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected]

 


 

  Tara Sivec, At the Stroke of Midnight

 


 

 
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