LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

      LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by V.M. Burns

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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      Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.

      First Electronic Edition: August 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0787-2

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0787-X

      First Print Edition: August 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0790-2

      ISBN-10: 1-5161-0790-X

      Printed in the United States of America

      Acknowledgments

      As always, I want to thank my agent, Dawn Dowdle at Blue Ridge Literary Agency and my editor, John Scognamiglio for their faith and patience.

      Thanks to my dad, Benjamin Burns, my sister, Jacquelyn Rucker, for the emotional support and many prayers. Thank you to my niece Jillian for the social media support and encouragement and thanks to my nephew, Christopher for the fashion advice.

      I have been blessed with a number of friends who have supported me in so many ways, whether it was listening to crazy hair brained ideas, brainstorming plot ideas, or talking me off the ledge when things got too tough. Thanks Kellye Garrett for answering a million questions. Thank you to Debbie Bennett for the ideas and moral support. Thanks to my Seton Hill University Tribe, Anna, Alex, Lana, Michelle, Patricia, Jessica, Matt, Penny, Jeff, Dagmar, Kenya, Gina, and Crystal for the accountability and support. Thanks to Patton Musick for letting me know I wasn’t crazy and encouraging me to keep writing. Thanks to the Barnyardians (Jill, Lindsey, Chuck, Jamie, Stephen, Tim and our fearless leader, Sandy) for being so amazingly supportive. Thanks to Deborah Hughes, Tena Elkins, Jamie Medlin and Grace Dixon, best training team ever. There is no way this book would be finished without my two good friends, Shelitha Mckee and Sophia Muckerson. Thank you for always supporting me as I pursue my dream and pushing me forward toward new levels.

      Thank you Dru Ann Love, Colleen Finn, and Karen Owen for the support and for everyone who has helped to share, and promote my books.

      Special thanks to my wonderful friends at Echo Dog Club in Buchanan, Michigan for the encouragement and support throughout the years when I was training and competing with my poodles. If it wasn’t for the wonderful memories I have with ECHO, I wouldn’t have come up with the idea for the series.

      CHAPTER 1

      “YOU TWO-TIMING LOW LIFE WEASEL!”

      I’d always prided myself on being in control and maintaining my dignity, but I was on the verge of not only humiliating myself, but committing physical violence.

      “Mom, calm down.” Stephanie placed her arm around me and helped me back into my seat.

      I glared at my soon-to-be ex-husband, thankful there was a large conference table in between us. He refused to make eye contact, looking everywhere but directly at me. The twenty-year-old home-wrecking hussy sitting next to him looked bored. The bleached-blond, heavily made-up twig was actually filing her fingernails.

      I was shocked he’d had the nerve to bring the floozy he was leaving me for to the meeting with our lawyers to discuss divorce proceedings and the distribution of assets.

      Less than five minutes ago I was on the verge of tears. My marriage of twenty-five years was ending. That was until Albert walked in with his lawyer and his super-slim girlfriend, who happened to be younger than our children. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Even though he’d said he still loved me, I knew there was someone else. Wives always knew. When he started working out, dyeing his hair, and spending lots of late nights at his car lot, I should have known. He said he needed something new. Turned out the “something new” was a twenty-year-old dancer who was younger than both of our children.

      Little Miss Home-Wrecker stopped filing her nails and smacking her gum long enough to yawn,