Read accidental 11 - accidentally ever after Online
Authors: dakota cassidy
Published 2015
Copyright © 2015, Dakota Cassidy.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or event is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.
Manufactured in the USA
Blurb
Antonia Vitali's on the run and in hiding, working as a salesclerk in a designer outlet mall in Jersey. Toni's life has been on a steady downward decline for three years now, the ghosts of her past always nipping at her heels.
Little does she know, her life's about to change when the OOPS girls whisk in for a day of Christmas shopping and fall through a wormhole in the store's dressing room, taking Toni with them!
Now Toni's got a pair of sparkly purple heels gifted to her by the head fairy godmother of them all—gorgeous heels she can't take off until she returns them to the king, a trio of reluctant fairy godmothers, an ogre named Dannan and a mission to get to the castle to find the happily-ever-after she never even asked for. Along the way, the group meets an amazingly handsome, utterly chiseled stable boy named Jon Doe, who offers to help them navigate The Not So Sherwood Forest safely and get them all to Castle Beckett before Christmas Eve.
But who is this hot dude and if her happily-ever-after is at the castle, why does the stable boy's company seem so right? And why does the evil Queen Angria want Toni’s head on a platter?
Join Toni, Marty, Nina, Wanda and Carl, too, as they journey along the treacherous road to love and eternal happiness in the magical realm of Shamalot!
Note From Dakota
Darling readers,
I’ve gone and mucked it up again, sticking my nose where it surely doesn’t belong by using snippets of famous fairy tales and ideas from various television shows to suit my twisted needs. Enormous thanks to: Outlander, Game of Thrones, Galavant, Shrek, Once Upon A Time, and, in one facet or another, every Disney/Pixar movie with a princess or memorable villain in it ever made. Basically what I’m saying is, I’ve maybe toyed with some classics (eep!), but it’s all done with utter and total respect.
I don’t care what anyone thinks about the non-feminist properties attached to my wish to be a princess; I’m honest enough to tell you that when I was five, I wanted to be Cinderella. I didn’t much care about the prince then, but I sure wanted talking mice, a coach, hair that floated around my waist, and that darn ball gown. Nowadays, at almost fifty, I just wanna wear a floaty dress while small forest creatures clean my house. But my love of a good fairytale remains.
Also grateful thanks to Mindy Dawn Fletcher for the brilliant title, my ever-awesome BFF Renee George for the brainstorming, and my amazing DH for some of the whacky parodies on names you’re about to encounter!
For anyone new to The Accidentals, I’ve included a link to
Interview With An Accidental
, a quick (and mostly painless) interview-style introduction to the women who are the heart and soul of this eleven-book series, originally published traditionally. If you’re a repeat offender (YAY to repeat offending, you rebels!), skip right to chapter one!
Dakota XXOO
Acknowledgements
Illustration: Katie Wood
Cover: Valerie Tibbs
Editor: Kelli Collins
Chapter 1
O
nce upon a time, in a land far, far away (or as some call it, Jersey), there were three lovely maidens and a zombie off for a day full of mirth-filled Christmas shopping and friendship.
Okay, that’s not totally true. Yes, there’s a zombie, but there are only two maidens full of mirth and friendship. The third maiden is so unlike the other two maidens, she wouldn’t know mirth if it slapped her on the ass and called her Snuggle Bunny.
But she totally gets friendship. Swear it.
Back to the story. Allow me to introduce the players in our tale: The first of the trio is our fair Marty Flaherty. With hair fashioned of spun gold—or in some circles, a box of Clairol #222—light of heart and blessed with a gift for perpetual optimism (see Pollyanna), one can surely see the charming Marty comes by her title with ease.
A cosmetic/fashion guru/werewolf, our Marty is an admitted shopaholic, and happily married to her life mate, with whom she shares the blending of two cosmetic empires and a young daughter named Hollis.
The second maiden, equally as fair, is our ever-elegant and oh-so-tasteful Wanda Schwartz. Warm, nurturing, a paragon of decorum, lovingly titled “halfsie” by her BFFs. Which translates to half vampire, half werewolf. Wanda is also happily married, and has an amazing manservant named Archibald who loves to cook gourmet meals.
And then there’s Nina Blackman-Statleon…
Fair maiden number three. Though, I warn you, this storyteller is only using the word “fair” to keep things on an equal playing field so when all is said and done, there’s no bandying the word “unjust” about. #storytellereyeroll
Ahem…
Anyway, Nina is the trio’s resident vampire, adorned with almond-shaped eyes the color of coal and luxurious raven hair totally untouched by any sort of finery. In other words, according to the two previously mentioned maidens, a total babe without even trying.
Dark, broody—dare I say crusty?—and easily provoked, she’s a lover of whatever doesn’t irritate her. Which is next to nothing except for five things: All animals, the elderly, children, someone in paranormal distress, and Barry Manilow. Mother to little vampini Charlie, surrogate mother to zombie Carl, and happily married wife of Gregori.
On this bright, crisp pre-winter day in December, the women and their zombie Carl find themselves fresh off their recent OOPS (Out In The Open Paranormal Support; a crisis hotline, as such) case. A harrowing encounter, wherein they came to blows with the goddess of disorder and chaos, Eris, in a mythological battle to the bitter end to save their friend and client Quinn Morris from certain death.
It was all manner of crazy, people. Fire-breathing horses, serpents, even a Cyclops (hand to heart—swear it’s true) were among their foes—all of which they valiantly conquered like the true warriors they are. That skirmish included Carl, our sweet, sweet zombie, who defeated said Cyclops by using a mighty blow to his big, scary eyeball with, of all things, a copy of Jane Eyre.
Obviously, fine readers, the three fair maidens and one zombie were in dire need of some R and R. So on this unusually chilly, early December day, the gregarious and light-of-heart maiden Marty suggested a shopping trip to the outlet mall in Jersey (I think like exit 92 off the turnpike, for those of you who speak Jersey), one of her and Wanda’s favorite places to unwind, regroup, and most importantly, spend quality time girl-bonding.
Little did they know this particular day would not only change their lives forever, but take them on a treacherous journey filled with pitfalls, magic, a new pair of shoes (so cute!)—and bad, bad dudes.
Lots of bad dudes…
“Oh my God, Wanda! Would you look at this? Only twenty bucks!”
If Antonia Vitali had heard the name correctly, a woman named Marty held up a short, flirty skirt she’d pulled from the rack and was now waving it at a woman named Wanda, who was plowing her way through a pile of seventy-five-percent-off silk scarves.
Wanda’s elegantly coiffed head popped up, one long chestnut strand of hair out of place from her rabid hunt for the perfect scarf. She’d walked into Discount Designers as though she were royalty and had proceeded to methodically work her way through every sale rack in mere minutes. Tall, stately, wearing clothes Toni could only guess cost more than her entire wardrobe.
“Shut the front door, Marty!” Wanda squealed, her eyes glazed as she blew the errant hair from her face. “I don’t know what to look at first. There’s sooo much!”
“Look at the door first, halfsie. See the one that says ‘Exit’? The one we should be walking right the shit out of? Look at
that
first,” complained the frightfully pale woman named Nina, wearing a T-shirt that read “I Am A Delicate Fucking Flower” and leaning against the far wall, pushing her sunglasses back up onto the bridge of her zinc-covered nose.
Toni’s manager Bree, aka the most vapid twenty-year-old in the world and younger than Toni by twelve years, cocked her head at Nina, assessing her long, slender limbs. “You know, there’s a dress over there that would change your life!”
She pointed to the far left side of the store, where racks and racks of discounted designer dresses in multiple colors hung, as though she had some huge fabric lottery win she’d chosen to share with the lucky pale woman.
Nina rolled her tongue in her cheek, lifting her sunglasses just a hair to glower down at Bree. “I’d have to have a life to change to wear a dress—or actually give a shit.”
Right on, Colorless One,
Toni silently cheered, fighting a chuckle while trying to make it appear as though she was deeply immersed in arranging the stack of leggings just delivered this morning.
“Nina!” Marty scampered across the store’s floor, as quick in a pair of heels as any athlete in high tops. She grabbed onto Nina’s arm and smiled with one-hundred-watt charm at the confused Bree. “She just means her life is small and lonely and,” Marty made a comical pouty face, “sad. So, so sad because she has no need for a dress. No parties. No chance for a date. No nothing. But do you have any hoodies? Black, of course, like her heart?”
Nina gave the woman named Marty a light nudge and made a face. “Get the eff off me, Crazypants. I don’t need a dress. I don’t need anything from this overpriced clothes rack. I can get hoodies online. Plenty of BOGOs to be had if you find a GD Groupon. Now finish whatever you two windbags are doing so we can go to the damn bookstore. Santa’s there today, and that’s all Carl’s talked about since you Skyped him behind my back and told him about this stupid excursion because you knew he was the easiest way to get me to agree to go. Now, Carl deserves a Santa, a nice new book, and some frickin’ ice cream for being used like a two-bit hooker, don’t ya buddy?” she asked the equally pale young man who was holding her hand and wearing a hoodie that matched hers.
The young man named Carl nodded his covered head, shooting Toni an endearingly shy, crooked smile from beneath the hoodie’s material.
Toni nodded her head without realizing she had. Who the hell wanted to shop for clothes when there was Santa and ice cream?
She smiled at Carl on her way to straighten the mussed pile of overpriced designer jeans. “I get it. I’d rather have ice cream, too,” she murmured as she passed him.
Bree cocked her head again, her fluffy blonde curls trembling when she stepped in front of Toni, her toe virtually tapping. “Excuse me?”
Toni gave her the infamous Vitali glaring eyeball, followed by the condescending rise of one eyebrow. “Sorry?”
Bree grabbed her by the arm and squeezed. “Don’t discourage the customers from shopping, Toni,” she hissed, her green eyes blazing. “Now shut up and go, like, fold something.”
Toni shrugged her off but Bree held tight, creating an angry spark of electricity along her spine. First, a woman almost young enough to have spewed forth from her vagina was chastising her. Second, she was being chastised—again.