The Month of Love: Ryder & Mishca


To celebrate the Month of Love, Aussie Owned & Read are giving our followers exclusive content! It may be a love letter between characters, a special date, or a scene you’ve never read before.

Today, Sharon M. Johnston is giving you one of the best scenes from her New Adult Science Fiction Romance, DIVIDED, but flipping it to show you how it was from Ryder’s POV.

Caught in her bra in Ryder’s car

We drive in silence, but inside I am giving myself royal uppercuts. I stuffed something up, but I am not sure what. Mishca keeps biting on her bottom lip, and I know I have to apologize. But not while I am driving.

As soon as we pull up at her place I grab my chance. “I am so sorry. I do not want you to be scared off. I really like you, Mishca.”

Her shoulders visibly sag, and I prepare for the worst.

“I really like you too, Ryder. There’s something I should tell you. Well, two things.” My brow scrunches in confusion. I thought I was going to get kicked to the curb.

“I’m not very, oh, how do I put this…” She pauses. “Well, experienced. Before this, it was just kissing.” Oh. “Which leads me to the next thing.”

That is no big deal. It could explain why she pulled away at the club. But what can the other thing be?  I stay silent, waiting, but she says nothing.

Then she sighs and pulls her top off over her head, leaving her sitting in her skirt and bra. My eyes bulge. I do not want to be a typical dude, but my gaze goes straight to her breasts. And I see it. An angry red scar.

As quickly as Mishca’s top was off, the door opens. A hand grabs my shirt and I get yanked out of the car.

“Get your hands off my daughter.”

Mishca’s dad pushes me to the ground. It takes every bit of self-control to stop the energy inside me from blasting out. Incinerating your date’s dad is not a way to get into her good books.

Mishca grapples with her top while yelling at her father. A blonde woman appears, who I assume is Mishca’s mum. I inhale and the energy is under control.

“Make yourself decent.” Her father spits the words at her with a judgmental tone that makes me regret not zapping him just a little bit.

“He didn’t touch me, Dad! I was showing him my scar.” Mishca’s voice has a pleading tone that makes her dad freeze.

Mishca’s mum puts a hand on his shoulder. “She’s serious, Tom. Come inside.”

The angry father turns on his heels and marches off, his wife following behind.

Mishca stares at me like she is willing me not to run off. “I’m so sorry about Dad. I thought it would be easier to show you my scar than explain.”

“Scar?” I say as neutrally as I can. “What scar? I only saw a pair of beautiful breasts.”

She whacks me with her handbag and I laugh some more. She thumps me again with it a couple more times. Then she pulls out a crumpled tissue and hands it to me. I wipe at the side of my face, unsure which part of me needs a clean-up.

Then I feel something. Something odd. Like a presence.

“So,” my gaze flicks skywards trying to work out what is going on, “were you in an accident?”

She shakes her head and my curiosity rises. “A heart transplant.”

“Really? Sorry that was not…um okay…wow…when?”

She gives me a brief run down about how she was having these anxiety attacks and they found a heart condition when they were running some tests. She was getting weaker and sicker until she scored a new heart.

Well thank God for organ donors.

“Ahhh dang,” I say when she is finished, hoping to lighten the mood with some humor. “Now that scar I got on my butt loses the number one scar story spot.” I grin and start unbuckling my belt. “But I guess seeing as we are sharing war stories…”

Quicker than I have seen anyone move, Mishca gets in front of me and places her hands on mine to stop me from de-pantsing myself.

With her hands on mine, sending tingles up my arms, I do the only thing my body will let me. I kiss her. Softly. Gently. A kiss that no dad should object to if he wants to be a granddaddy someday.

I move back to the car and let myself reach out to search for that presence. But it is gone. I would have stayed all night to make sure Mishca was in no danger. But now I am not sure if I was just imagining things.

She smiles, her hand going to her lips as though she is pressing play on her memory of our kiss.

I grin at her. “I will call you. Let me know when it is safe to show my face around here again.”


Sharon Johnston


Sharon is an author from sunny Mackay who also obsesses with fur babies and unicorns. She blames her husband for her new-found obsession: Pokemon Shuffle. Sharon will be visiting Las Vegas for Romantic Times where you can catch her at the What Happens In Vegas, Stays in Vegas party as well as the Pitch Wars Roadshow.  Find her on Twitter @S_M_Johnston.





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