Writing Dirty-Bonus Epilogues
Btu Alumni, Book 5

Bonus Epilogues

 

Bonus Epilogue

Characters

 

Okay, okay, okay. First things first, we have to say we love our creator.

 

This is true. Without Maddey, none of our stories would ever be told.

 

But is it really too much to ask that she listen to the fantabulous advice we give her?

 

For reals, because if she did, homegirl would have gotten laid hella sooner.

 

Jiminy: If she listened to you fools, she would have ended up in jail—or something—more times than I can count.

 

Oh look—it’s Cricket Buzzkill.

 

Yeah, if you didn’t butt in and guilt her all the damn time, she wouldn’t have gone through such a dry spell before SEAL Sexy Pants came along and Beyoncé-d it up in here.

 

Hell yeah he put a ring on it.

 

Dance party! *pulls up Beyoncé playlist*

 

Okay, so now back to the good stuff.

 

Yes, yes. *claps hands*

 

Holy Kindle-melting, panty-ruining hotness does her Hook know how to inspire some primo smut.

 

You know what my favorite thing about Miss Tink marrying Dexter with the good dick is?

 

What is with the Beyoncé kick?

 

Are you complaining about talking about Queen B?

 

*holds hands up in surrender* Never.

 

Anyway…

 

You were about to tell us the best part about marrying the rocket launcher smuggler.

 

And I’m going to guess it isn’t all the orgasms, because that seems too easy.

 

It is. That would be a total gimme.

 

Jiminy: Geez, no wonder her Coven Conversations are a hot mess—she can’t even keep you guys in line. There’s no way she would be able to when she’s combined with whatever craziness goes on in the minds of the other nine of them.

 

*blows fart noise on hand* Stop being boring.

 

Anyone have any Raid? We seem to have a pest problem.

 

And to think, I was trying to be serious over here, and the cricket can’t resist ruining my flow.

 

Jiminy: Can you really blame me? There are days I have to ask myself if you fools even know the meaning of the word serious.

 

Hardy-har-har. Okay, well before you decide to get on your high horse again and stop me, here goes. *clears throat* Dex is great because he 100% accepts us talking to Maddey at all hours of the day.

 

Oh, yes. *nods emphatically* And he finds us hilarious.

 

Umm…that’s because we are.

 

Yup. You know the acronym NSFW?

 

Not safe for work?

 

That’s the one.

 

Well we are what you call NSTEODAWLTU.

 

Okay, now you’ve lost even me.

 

Not safe to eat or drink anything when listening to us.

 

*snaps and points* Totally us.

 

Jiminy: You guys are going to age me prematurely.

 

Ehh. *shrugs shoulders* At least we know Hook and Tink’s happily ever after will never be boring.

 

 

Bonus Bonus Epilogue

 

Trident

 

I know some people like to make fun of my mom and think she’s crazy for talking to me the same way she does all her super-awesome Covenettes, but let me set the record straight right now. You might as well call my mom Dr. Dolittle because, duh, I understand her.

 

She’s the best. She is literally the best hooman ever.

 

Well…my Aunt Jordan is a really close second.

 

At least she was until my new dad came into the picture.

 

The guys are almost as much fun as the girls. Sammy always pets me, Ryan takes me for runs, Jake lets me chill out, and Jase holds it down with giving me treats when Mom isn’t looking.

 

But new Dad? He makes Mom smile in this weird goofy way no one else can. He’s also kind of a badass.

 

Uncle Justin is cool too, and he keeps me sharp by taking me to see the lady who teaches all the real heroes—the K-9 unit.

 

But back to Dad…

 

He gives really good head scratches, knows how to pick out the best bones, and has comfy feet. You might not think this is an important attribute, but when you are a dog who likes to lay across them, it matters.

 

Plus, it’s nice to have someone to hang out with when Mom has to retreat into her writing cave.

 

He’s not as fluent in dog speak as Mom, but he holds his own, and it’s nice to have a wingman I don’t have to worry will try to take the bitches like when Navy and I are on the prowl.

 

“Trident, baby, are you ready?” Mom calls, coming out of the bedroom.

 

Woof! *Ready*

 

“Who’s better than you?” She crouches down so she can scratch both my ears at the same time.

 

Woof! Woof! *No one*

 

“That’s right, baby. No one.”

 

I sit to bask in her praise, shoving my nose into her neck and breathing in her sweet scent. Dad says she smells like coconut. I like coconut—he gave me some the last time he was home. What I don’t like? How after they ate the coconut they went and did that thing that always makes me leave the room.

 

I know I’m not her hooman child, but a kid does not need to see his parents naked.

 

“What do you say we go pick up Dad?”

 

Woof. *Sure*

 

“Don’t pout,” she scolds.

 

It’s not my fault. I’m super excited Dad gets back from deployment today, but when he’s home, there’s so much less space in the bed.

 

“Come on, baby.” I wait for her to slip on her American-flag-print high heels that match the bandana she tied around my neck.

 

She grabs the keys to Dad’s truck, holds the door open for me, and rolls the window down so I can feel the wind blow through my fur then we set off for the airfield.

 

Mom sings along to the radio as we make a quick detour to Starbucks—coffee for Mom, puppuccino for me—and then we are pulling into the parking lot to wait with a bunch of other people.

 

Mom lets me run to say hi to the hoomans we know, and when I’m done getting my pets, I jump up onto the open tailgate and lie down next to her in the bed of the truck.

 

I put my head in Mom’s lap; it’s quite a feat with how she’s bouncing in her seat, but I start to drift off when she does that thing where she rubs my ear over and over. I’m only a dog, but I don’t think coffee was the best choice for how hopped up she is.

 

I don’t know how long we wait—I’m a dog, we don’t wear watches—before Mom lets out a squeal I think I’m the only one capable of hearing.

 

She jumps to stand, using the height of the truck to her advantage.

 

Mom’s excitement is always contagious, so of course I join her in her search.

 

My tongue hangs out the side of my mouth and I can already taste the bone Dad will get for me so he can do all that gross naked stuff with Mom.

 

Hmm…I wonder if Uncle Tyler would have a slumber party with me tonight.

 

“Squee!” Mom hops down from the truck, and I have to scramble to keep up as she takes off across the tarmac and launches herself into Dad’s arms.

 

They do the whole thing where they try to eat each other’s faces. Why can’t they just sniff butts like us normal people…normal pooches? Whatever.

 

“So, what?” Uncle Tyler pulls me in for a pet. “He wifes you up and you forget all about your brother who also returned home from deployment?”

 

Mom does that thing where she holds one of her paw’s fingers in the air but doesn’t stop kissing Dad.

 

“I’m telling Mom you flipped me off.”

 

“Way to sound like an adult there, Ty.” Mom giggles, unsurprisingly not concerned about the threat. Mom is my Nonna’s favorite—after me, that is.

 

Want to know another reason I approve of Dex as my dad?

 

Even with Mom wrapped around him like Lucy and Lacey when they try to ride me like I’m a horse—those silly girls; Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm are much better for that—he bends down to give me a hello scratch.

 

“Hey, bud.” I lick his face. “Did you keep Mom in line while I was gone?”

 

Woof! *Duh*

 

“Good boy.”

 

As a group, with Dad still carrying Mom, we make our way back to the vehicles.

 

I leap into the truck bed and supervise Uncle Ty’s loading of the bags.

 

“Ugh, Madz, really?” Uncle Ty acts like he’s going to be sick as he pinches the poster Mom made but forgot to hold up because she was too busy being icky to remember it.

 

“Don’t hate on my craft skills. Skye helped,” Mom says between kisses.

 

Dad finally lifts his head long enough to look over at the ‘Stone, report for booty’ sign done up in red, white, and blue puffy paint. (At least that’s what Aunt Skye said the colors were.)

 

“Your wish is my command, Tink.”

 

Uncle Ty buries his face in my side with a pained groan when Dad squeezes Mom’s butt. Doesn’t he know that’s not what you’re supposed to do to a butt?

 

“Why am I not surprised you own a pair of patriotic heels, Tink?” Dad lifts one of Mom’s feet after he sets her down on the tailgate.

 

“Any excuse to go shoe shopping, huh, sis?” Uncle Ty chuckles like he’s the funniest hooman.

 

“I’ll have you know, smartass”—Mom waves a hand over her shoe like she’s that pretty lady on Wheel of Fortune—“I already owned these. My Uncle Sam wardrobe really grew during the Olympics.”

 

“Are you sure you want to be married to her?” Uncle Ty brings his hands to his chest. “I promise I’ll still be your best friend even if you change your mind.”

 

“Yeah, asshole.” Now Dad chuckles, but he never takes his eyes off Mom. “This is my favorite McClain right here.”

 

And they’re back to kissing.

 

 

 

Bonus Bonus Bonus Epilogue

 

 

*WARNING*

This Bonus is only for those who are curious to know how Ryan’s proposal and the breakup went down this is it. I wrote it for the die hards. It did get me hella shouty caps from the betas.

 

Maddey

Almost 3 years ago

 

I look up at the familiar building as Ryan shifts the car into park. Though I didn’t actually attend Brighten Tynes University, I did spend a considerable amount of time at the Titan Arena. 

 

“Umm, Ry?” I question, unsure why we are here. This is not where I expected him to take me when he said he had something fun planned for us tonight. Dating the golden boy of the NHL can have its challenges when it comes to going out in public, but a hockey arena? The same one he graduated from? Yeah, that’s just a recipe for disaster. 

 

“Yeah, Bucky?” Ryan smirks before shutting the door and coming around to my side. 

 

“Nope.” I wave my finger side to side, cutting him off before he can really get started. 

 

“What?” He feigns innocence, pushing the button for the tailgate. When it rises, I see both our sets of skates in the back.

 

Still not telling me why we are here, he drapes the skates over his shoulder, links our hands together, and leads us inside. 

 

“It’s my fault for letting us read Teagan Hunter for book club, but we are not stealing the nicknames for us. I don’t call you Cap like everyone else does, so don’t even try calling me Bucky.”

 

“Fine. Ruin all my fun, Madison.”

 

I roll my lips in to keep from smiling. I hate being called by my full name, but for some reason, Ryan gets away with it. 

 

The heels of my stilettos echo down the empty hallway as we follow the all-too-familiar route to the rink. We pass the epic murals depicting Titans in play, photographs of both current and past players, and the entire glassed-in wall of trophies and accolades the team has accrued. 

 

The sights aren’t anything new—save for the most recent signed and framed Team USA Hockey jersey that’s been added to the collection—but the absence of people is what has my head on a swivel. Yes it’s the summer, but the arena is always available to those who stay in the area year-round.

 

The need to ask why we are here burns the back of my throat, but I manage to hold it in. A thumb smooths across the bumps of my knuckles, and I give the hand holding mine a squeeze, silently telling him I’m along for the ride. 

 

The lighting inside the arena is dim with only half the lights switched on. I’m not used to seeing such a cavernous building shrouded in shadows. Between that and the cold air that keeps the ice from melting, I shiver.

 

Ryan being Ryan, he notices and drops an arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side. There’s a hint of a smile playing on the edges of his lips, and it makes me wonder what he has planned.

 

Metal clanks when he lifts the handle of the door that grants us access to the team bench to sit.

 

Ooo, question. *raises hand*

 

Why are you raising your hand? This isn’t a classroom.

 

Shut up. Anyway…do you think we’re finally going to get to check having sex in the locker room off the boom-boom bucket list?

 

If that’s what Ryan is planning, why are we inside the arena?

 

You know Ryan—he’s a gentleman. Maybe he’s going to wine and dine our girl first.

 

I’m so lost in the musings of the voices inside my head—I’m not crazy, I’m an author, and it’s hard to get my characters to shut up—it takes me longer than it should to spot the setup at center ice.

 

Shit! Our dating anniversary isn’t for a few weeks, but is this some type of anniversary thing? Why else would he recreate the on-ice picnic from our first date?

 

Trying not to let my panic show, I accept the pair of tube socks Ryan holds out and start to switch out my pumps for my skates. Why the hell can I write romance novels with the dreamiest romantic gestures in them but always feel like I’m coming up short as a girlfriend in real life?

 

After making sure the laces are nice and tight, I adjust the socks until they are secured above my knee. The high cotton will offer protection against the cold of the ice, and it’s no surprise Ryan thought to bring them. Sundresses are great for the season, but not so much inside an ice rink.

 

Ryan taps on his phone, and a few seconds later Jessie Ware’s cover of “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes” starts to play through the arena’s sound system. I arch a brow but only get that playful smirk I love so much in return. Look at him earning bonus points by catering to my Disney-loving heart.

 

He hoists himself over the half-wall separating the bench from the ice effortlessly. I’m sure he’s done it so many times in his life it’s muscle memory, but it doesn’t make it any less hot. How do you not appreciate the bulge and flex of muscles?

 

Personally, I could watch Ryan move all day and never get bored. It’s one of the reasons he’s one of my go-to inspirations for book boyfriends when I write.

 

Oh yeah, he gives the perfect swoon.

 

I approve of anything that inspires a scene where we get some.

 

You mean like the chapter she wrote last night when she was thinking of Dex?

 

Do you fools really think you should be bringing up another man when she’s with Ryan? Jiminy—my aptly named conscience—scolds.

 

He’s right.

 

I suck for letting thoughts of my brothers’ best friend creep in when I’m with Ryan.

 

Shaking off…everything, I focus on the world’s best boyfriend in front of me. Ever the gentleman, he’s already holding open the small door so I can step onto the ice without having to hop the wall like him.

 

Reaching for the hand he’s holding out, I lace our fingers together, and the blades of my skates glide over the smooth surface of the ice. Taking my other hand as well, Ryan spins so he’s skating backward, tugging me along for the ride. My skills have vastly improved in the years we’ve been dating, but they are amateur compared to Ryan’s. Skating comes as naturally as walking to him, if not more so.

 

Trusting him to not let me fall, I scan the arena around us, my mind always making mental notes for what I could use in a book.

 

As the first song ends and Pentatonix’s rendition of “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” begins, Ryan skates us over to the blue and yellow checked blanket. Carefully, I step onto the plush material, eyeing him warily when he doesn’t join me. My confusion only grows when he stops me from sitting.

 

“Ry?” My brow furrows.

 

He shifts his feet, his skates wearing grooves into the ice from the back and forth motion.

 

Why is he acting weird?

 

My gaze drops to his chest, ogling it as it expands with a massive inhalation. I should probably be trying to figure out what has him so worked up, because that was obviously a breath for fortification—what the hell does he need fortifying for?—but my attention is more focused on the way his muscles test the limits of his cotton shirt.

 

“Madison.”

 

My gaze snaps up to his, locking with his deep blues. Why do I feel like I should be the one bracing myself?

 

Ice scrapes, and Ryan drops to one knee.

 

My heart skips into overdrive like we were racing each other around the rink instead of skating at a leisurely pace like we were.

 

He’s not doing what I think he’s doing, is he?

 

He releases my right hand, taking my left in both of his.

 

No.

 

No, no, no, no.

 

He clears his throat.

 

Oh my god. He’s really doing it.

 

“Madz.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ve thought of a million different ways to do this, ranging from the simple one of asking you in bed one morning to the most epically grand of flying us to Disney World and doing it during Mickey’s parade, but none of them felt right—and in the case of the mouse, it would have be too public.”

 

He’s not wrong about that. Jordan, his sister and one of my best friends, would lose her shit with Skye, her business partner and another bestie of mine, over the internet gold of a public proposal in the happiest place on earth. It would totally turn into a mob scene.

 

Aren’t you glad you aren’t in public right now?

 

Not the time, Jiminy, I snap at my conscience.

 

Anyone have a clue how I should handle this? Sleepy, Sneezy, Doc, Grumpy, Bashful, Happy, Dopey? Anyone?

 

Gah!

 

The dwarfs are just as useless as the cricket.

 

You do know I’m not actually a cricket, right? Damn Jiminy. My conscience is lucky it isn’t an insect. If it were, I have a five-inch hot pink stiletto I would be introducing it to.

 

What the hell am I supposed to do?

 

Even my characters are suspiciously quiet.

 

“So.” Ryan’s voice brings me out of my crazy musings. “I finally settled on coming back to where it all started.” He jerks a chin at the arena.

 

My chest twinges, and I wonder if it’s possible for a person my age to have a heart attack.

 

I know everyone has been expecting this—especially after his sister married her own college sweetheart so soon after graduation—but I am not prepared.

 

As terrible as it sounds, I’ve never even pictured us getting married. Whenever I’ve thought about Ryan and me as a couple, that’s all we were—a couple, us.

 

I’m not sure if I’m ready for this—for things to change.

 

No, that’s a lie. I’m not sure if I can do this.

 

Do I love Ryan? Of course I do. He’s become so much more to me than just my boyfriend; he’s one of my best friends. We have so much fun together. We make each other laugh, and he treats me like I’m a heroine in one of my books.

 

So why don’t I want him to ask me to marry him?

 

“I love you so much. I’ve been in love with you pretty much from the beginning of us dating. My heart beats for you, Maddey.”

 

That—that right there is why I’m dreading what is about to come next. Because while I can say I love him, I’m not really sure if I’m in love with him.

 

For years I thought I was in love with another man. Now that I’m older and have witnessed one of my best friends fall head over heels, I can see that what I’ve felt for Dex was only puppy love born from a childhood crush.

 

I mean, Kirstie Alley had the right idea in It Takes Two. The person you marry should make you feel that can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, World Series kind of love.

 

Hmm, maybe the fact that my go-to love quote refers to baseball further proves I’m not meant to be with a hockey player.

 

Still…no matter how hard I’ve tried to change it, there will always be a small part of my heart that belongs to him.

 

Dexter Stone.

 

Not my boyfriend.

 

I’m totally that character readers want to throat-punch.

 

“Will you marry me?”

 

Ryan’s handsome face is so hopeful. His love for me radiates off him.

 

I want to say yes.

 

I want to say yes so badly, but Ryan is too good of a person for me to say yes if I can’t give him all of me. He deserves someone who will love him completely. 

 

And…

 

And as much as I wish things were different, that person is not me. If it were, I wouldn’t be picturing how this might play out if it were another person in his place.

 

My eyes sting, filling with tears. As the first one falls, so does his expression.

 

He knows.

**If you enjoyed maddey and dex's story, the next book in the BTU Alumni series is ryan's story scoring beauty  available now free in Kindle Unlimited.**