Jackie Coogan: America's First Child Super Star

In the elite world of a high-class school, Jane, once a nobody, lands a dream job offer from the school's owner. The catch? She must secretly babysit four infamous "Jerks" on campus. With a high salary and flexible hours, it seems too good to be true.

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”

Jack Saunders wanted one last hurrah before taking the mantle of DS Oil & Gas, the billion-dollar company that his father founded. His friend, Owen, let him borrow his mansion on a tropical island so that he could throw a final party before “marrying” the business that would dominate the rest of his life. He brought his secretary, Brandy, hoping that he could kindle a relationship that would last through the long days and nights of running a company. However, while the party was great, the gold digging woman he brought was not, and Jack resigned himself to a lifetime of loneliness. That was until he took a walk down the beach and met her. A woman who didn’t recognize him from the tabloids and only saw him, the man behind the money. Of all the women Jack had ever met, there was nobody like Emma LaRue. With one pretend marriage ceremony, she would change his life forever, and become the only one he ever wanted to give his saltwater kisses to. This novella is the first half of Saltwater Kisses written from Jack’s point-of-view, with a few bonus scenes thrown in as well.

Jesse sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder to read out the contents. “Dearest Jesse, just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you. I hope you're thinking about me too. Love--" He pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips turning to face his brother. "Wal, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love to his son’s babysitter?" Wallace drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand. ************* Jesse offers to be a babysitter to a kid he hasn’t even met until he realizes he’s babysitting a mafia’s kid. The same mafia he had a one night run in with. Infuriated, he tries to back out since he has been trying his hardest to avoid the criminal life for a long time despite being born into it, but a cute kid and an infuriating Mafia Lord keeps pulling him deeper into the mix.

For four years, Nicole Harrington loved her billionaire CEO from a distance — quietly, hopelessly, and completely in secret. Then he asked her to move in. Not as his lover. As his daughter's nanny. What should have been simple became impossible the moment his little girl took her hand and refused to let go — and the moment he touched her like she was the only thing in the room worth wanting. He made the rules clear. No feelings. No strings. No future. Nicole knows better than to break them. But some secrets don't wait for permission to come out. And the one buried between them could change everything — or destroy it all.

Dad was terrified of being laughed at. Every holiday, he only ever said one thing. “Do not embarrass me.” The relatives were sitting around chatting when I accidentally knocked over a fruit platter on the table. He grabbed me right there and slapped me across the face. At dinner, I reached for a second helping of pot roast, and he kicked my chair out from under me. Later, when it was time to hand out gift cards, Uncle Ray miscounted and came up one short. Without a word, Dad shoved me out into the hallway in nothing but a thin shirt. The cold cut straight through me. I pounded on the door while I cried and apologized. He did not make a sound. He turned to Uncle Ray with an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. I guess I have not taught this kid any manners.” He did not know that his lessons had already conditioned me to flinch at the phrase “laughed at.” Every time I heard it, I froze and felt myself shut down. When I heard him say it again through the closed door, I turned in silence and walked toward the dark bridge at the edge of the neighborhood. I did not know what I planned to do. I only knew I wanted the noise in my head to stop. I reached the railing and stared at the water below. One thought crossed my mind. “Dad, this time, no one will ever laugh at you because of me again.”