Lucky Charms: A Hudson Family Series- Book 3- Dalton and Cami Read online

  Lucky Charms

  A Hudson Family Series

  Book 3 –Dalton and Cami

  By Chontelle Brison

  Copyright © 2016 by Chontelle Brison

  All rights reserved. This publication or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is dedicated to Kenzie and Kiara, without all of their Irish tales and schooling me in the unique art of Irish insults and drinking, Camille never would have been the awesome, character she became! Also, a shout out to my hubby and kids, who have put up me with bouncing all my new Irish vocabulary and insults off them relentlessly!

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  The Hudson Family Series!

  Back to You- Reece and Synclair- Book 1- Available Now!

  Baby Mine- Lucas and Sara- Book 2- Available Now!

  Lucky Charms- Dalton and Cami- Book 3- Available Now!

  No Refunds No Exchanges- Matt and Ali ( Release Date: September 23, 2016!)

  Rachel and Jake- Coming Soon

  Taylor and Michael- Coming Soon

  You will find some Irish terms in this book you may not be familiar with…..So, I have jotted them down to help you all out!

  I have also included some of the hilarious insults that my Irish friends taught me but wasn’t able to use!

  I hope you have as much fun reading about Dalton and Camille, as I had writing about them!

  Irish words, sayings, and anything else I thought was funny!

  Nappies: Diapers

  Slapper: Slut, loose woman, easy chick (You get it)

  Wagon: The Irish equivalent of calling a woman the C-word! Yep, that one!

  Ma: Mom, mother

  Da: Dad, Father

  Verra: Very

  Bird: girl, woman, chick

  Pint: Guinness, always Guinness..never insult the Guinness!

  Arse: Ass

  Gobshite: Calling someone a shit

  Maggot: Exactly, what it sounds like.

  The Press: Cupboards

  Cuppa: Cup of Tea

  Jumper: Sweater

  Meself: Myself

  Yerself: Yourself

  Shagging or Shaggin’: to have sex

  Bullocks: Man’s nuts

  Shitty Article: Well, a shitty thing

  Telly: Television

  Wanker: Idiot, ass

  Eegit: Idiot

  On the long finger: To Put off something

  Thick as two planks: Dumb

  Boyo: Punk

  Shite: Shit

  Whale of a story: Long, fake tale

  Bloody: Very, some use it in place of Damn!

  Fer: For

  Boot: Trunk of a car

  Bust yer cranium: Bash your head in

  Feck: Fuck

  I didn’t get to use these, but they are funny!

  She'd Teeth On Her Like A Donegal Graveyard: Her teeth were below par!

  Face On 'Er Like A Busted Cabbage: Ugly

  Shake Her And The Cocks Fall Outa Er: Promiscuous lady!

  I Could Ate A Nuns Cunt Through A Convent Gate: I’m hungry. (Yeah, this one was kind of disturbing!)

  Not Even The Tide Would Take Her Out: Ugly woman

  You've Got A Face On Ye Like A Well Slapped Backside: When your face looks angry!

  The Wheel's Turning, But The Hamster's Dead: Basically, the person’s stupid.

  Cami

  “Ma! You can’t be invitin’ me ex to Synclair and Sara’s weddin’, ya just can’t!” I shouted, earning me a harsh glare from me mother.

  “Camille Gwendolyn McDougall-Patrick, do not take that tone with me, missy,” Me Ma ordered.

  I slumped down on the chair at our dining room table and set me face in me palms. Nothing I said seemed to penetrate that stubborn, thick skull of hers.

  “Sean Walsh has been a friend of this family since you both were in your nappies together as babes; he made one mistake, and you’ve never even let him give you a proper apology,” Ma scolded.

  Now, that was going too far. “A proper apology? How does one atone for shagging me best friend and her mother?” I asked, cringing at me own remarks.

  It was true, Sean Walsh had lived down the lane from me since we were just toddlers. His parents and mine had always been close. I had been in love with him since I was about seven years old, when he found me a real four leaf clover and left it for me on the steps of me house.

  Everyone had always assumed we would end up together, meself included. When Sean wanted to pursue acting instead of attending the University here in Dublin, I was the only one that supported him. We’d spend hours rehearsing his lines and struggling to learn to talk with less of an Irish pronunciation so that he could get some international acting jobs.

  Sean definitely had the look of it. He had dreamy silver eyes and reddish brown hair that he styled in a manner that made him look both roguish and sexy. He was a fit lad without an ounce of fat on him, and he worked excessively hard in the gym every day, and the results showed on his taut body.

  Often times, he would encourage me to go along with him, teasing me that I needed to make me soft flesh toned. At the time, I shrugged it off to harmless razzing about me body, but now I know it was him criticizing me.

  I had never thought of meself as ugly or not ugly, only me. I had long brown hair that I had to keep back in a headband, or it was forever in me face. I think me body is okay: I’m about five foot four in American measurement, and while I don’t have the biggest set of breasts, they seem to fill out me bras nicely. Like most Irish girls, I had an excellent collection of freckles that peppered me face, that no measure of makeup in the world seemed to hide, and me fair skin burned instead of tanned in the summer. All in all, I had been told I was a fine thing by a few of me high school mates growing up, but I absolutely wasn’t heart-stopping.

  That particular award goes to me cousin Synclair. She’s the one whose wedding I’m organizing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a wedding planner, I was just seeking a way to move us closer together.

  Without draggin’ it out too much, me real Da and Ma split up before I was born and she married me stepdad, Walter McDougall. However, me biological Da, Jack Patrick, wouldn’t let me stepfather push him out of me life, even from all the way in America.

  Yeah, I had caught a lot of injustices for having an American father, some kids used to tease me that I couldn’t call meself Irish. Those same little bastards got me fist in their faces as well.

  Anyways, me real Da, Jack, lived in Las Vegas, Nevada. It was about a twelve-hour airplane ride from Dublin, and the eight-hour time change was brutal, but as soon as I was old enough to travel alone, I made the trip as often as I could. America was a fascinatin’ place, it wasn’t nearly as green as Dublin, but it also didn’t rain ten months out of the year in Las Vegas either. When I would visit, I would stay with me Da in his residence above the bar that he owned there. Me cousin Synclair lived in an adjoining apartment and ran the bar with me Da.

  I didn’t like Synclair at first; in fact, when I was about seventeen, I told her she was worthless and that I despised her. Luckily, she left me with all me teeth and advised me that ultimately I might change me mind. That night, me Da told me the s
tory of his sister, Synclair’s mother, how Synclair’s Ma was a drug addict and a prostitute, and that Synclair had never had a proper home - she had grown up in motels and shanty houses.

  I had never felt lower in me life. I was furious at this woman, because she got more of me Da then I did. I was a shitty, selfish article all together because, despite the awkwardness of trying to get to know me father, I had a good life in Dublin.

  Sean and I were the best of friends, me step-Da spoiled me rotten, and I had a best friend that was like me soul sister. Yeah, I was merely seventeen, how was I supposed to know that soon it would all go to shit?

  After that, I made an intensified attempt to get to know me cousin. It was no simple feat: Each time I would hug her, she would stiffen, and there were occasions where she would get verra pale and hyperventilate. Me Da called them panic attacks, on account of her trauma growing up. It took a long time, but after a while she let me hug her without getting all stiff, and she also let me help her bake. Oh yeah, me cousin is a fierce baker in the kitchen; she was trained by some famous chef, and the woman can sincerely make you cry, her food is so good.

  That’s why I offered to organize her wedding for her. She was finally getting married to the love of her life, and she was having a child, to boot. I want her to know how much I care about her, so I have been spending months planning a Halloween wedding. Yep, I did say a wedding on All Hallows' Eve. It definitely was the worst time of year for an outdoor wedding. However, when she had explained that growing up, it was the one day of the year where she could go in her, raggedy clothes, and people would smile and give her candy, I decided she could have whatever she wanted!

  Me Da, who has insisted on paying fer the entire shindig, told me to buy every tent in Dublin if I had to, but it was still going to be a challenge since the probability of rain was most likely 99.9%.

  Still, I was happy to be doing something for her, even after she called me a few months back and added another bride and groom to the ticket. Apparently her fiancé’s brother, Lucas, had proposed to Sara, and Synclair thought it would be grand if they were married all at the same time. A thoughtful and romantic notion if there ever was one. So, although it would mean more work for me, I couldn’t turn the exasperatin’ woman down, not when she was pregnant with me cousin.

  That was the other happy thing, both Synclair and Sara were pregnant, and with Synclair being due shortly after the wedding, she had agreed to stay in Dublin to have the baby. I was so excited I could pee me trousers. I was going to be the best cousin this babe had ever had, I couldn’t wait to spoil me little cousin rotten.

  Wait, I’m getting off track! Back to me rotten, snarky, piece of shite ex-boyfriend.

  A few years after I started at the University, Sean had become the equivalent of a Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise here in Europe. I stupidly thought he would keep his promise to not let the fame get him big-headed. I actually believed him when he told me that it was us against the world. I was a bloody eejit.

  It was our official three-year anniversary since actually becoming a couple, and our one-year anniversary since becoming engaged, and I had planned to make that night our first night together. I know it wasn’t very modern of me, but I had wanted to save me virginity for someone special. So far, we had done all sorts of other stuff, but we hadn’t actually had “intercourse”.

  That night I was going to change all that, give meself to Sean both body and soul. That was, until I showed up at his apartment, that I paid the rent on, and found him shaggin’ me best mate on his kitchen table - a table I purchased, I might add.

  If that wasn’t shocking enough, two days later me mate’s mum turned up pregnant and called out Sean as the baby’s father.

  Sean had tried to explain, but I stopped listening after he started blaming the whole situation on me, using words like closed-off and frigid, and me favorite phrase, “a man has needs.”

  Pissed beyond reason, I had stomped out of there and threatened to turn him from a fella to chick if he ever came near me again. Now five years later, he was an even bigger international star, but he was reelin’ from a massive scandal.

  Tara Sims, me ex-best mate, had dumped him for another celebrity, and the baby that Tara’s mom had claimed was Sean’s, after five years, was discovered to be another man’s. Seriously? How does that even happen? Hasn’t Jerry Springer taught us that a simple DNA test sorts all things?

  My mom tried to tell me all the gossip that would come down the grapevine from her friends or from shows on the telly, but I didn’t want to hear it. Every time I thought about how Sean and me mate had betrayed me and the cruel things he had told me when I had found out, made me chest hurt and my Irish temper flare.

  Which brings me back to the irritating notion of my mother inviting the wanker to Synclair’s wedding. I know my Ma had always hoped that Sean and I would work things out, but she had a better chance of Jesus himself showing up at the wedding.

  “Now, you’ve put this situation on the long finger for far too long, Camille.” My mother pointed her finger at me for emphasis.

  I sighed, the woman was like a dog with a bleedin’ bone.

  “Fine Ma, invite who you want, but don’t expect me to be pleasant to the arsehole, I just won’t do it,” I warned her. I didn’t want her to be getting her hopes up that Sean and I would work things out. As far as I was concerned that was never going to be happening.

  Ma clapped her hands together in delight, I rolled my eyes and concentrated on my cuppa. A cuppa is tea with lots of sugar and trust me I need lots of sugar so that I don’t kill all the bloody eejits that I deal with in a day.

  “Good now that’s settled, I need you to go into town and pick up the contractor from the airport,” Ma told me as she put a plate teeming with eggs and sausage in front me hungry face. I would like to say I ate like a dainty bird, always mindful of me weight. Um No! I liked food and while I wasn’t heavy I definitely wasn’t a twig either.

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes again. I didn’t get why we needed a contractor to come all the way from the states, no matter what kind of deal he was giving us. I had already told me Da that there were plenty of excellent Irish contractors that could build the gazebo that the brides were to be married in. In fact, me step Da, Walt, was one himself. Not that me Da would ever ask Walt for a damn thing. Since Walt left my Ma for another woman a year ago, those two men can’t be in the same room without throwing fists. I’ll get into all that later, that’s a whale of a story if there ever was one.

  Let’s get back to me gazebo design. I had sketched it all out on me notepad and showed me Da a few months ago. I was going to have a large, white gazebo built in the back yard, and I was going to adorn it with colorful spring flowers. Of course, I expected it to be expensive, but I was still shocked when me Da came to me last week and told me that Reece knew a contractor that was willing to come to Dublin and build the gazebo at such a discounted rate that none of the local contractors could even compete.

  Of course, me Ma offered the man a room here in the house and apparently I had been offered up as the personal taxi for the wanker. It’s not that I had anything personal against whoever the man was, it was just the fact that he was a man that doomed him to be forever called, wanker, in my mind. Since Sean I hadn’t dated a single fella, the idea of someone touching me made my skin crawl. I had come to terms with the fact that Sean may have been right about me being frigid. I just can’t relax and let go, so I figured why date? After all, wasn’t the point of dating to eventually shag? Besides, I didn’t need a man, I could be happy with me family, me job at Lark’s Pub, helping Walt with his company, me friends and of course me battery operated vibrator. Who needs a fella when I can have an orgasm and no morning after awkwardness.

  Grabbing me keys and pocketbook from the table by the door I braced myself against the brisk cold Irish morning that was waiting for me and trudged off to the airport to collect the American yank my father had hired.

  Dalton
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br />   “So, this is your first trip to Ireland, is it?” The beautiful girl next to me, who’s name I don’t remember and really don’t care to ask, inquired.

  Turning my attention from the small window I gave her my standard issue Hudson smile. Just as expected the cute blonde with the big blue eyes placed her arm on mine and scooted closer.

  “Yep, I’m here to build a gazebo for my brother’s wedding, his fiance’s family lives in Dublin,” I don’t know why I offered that information.

  “Oh Dalton, you must tell me their names, maybe I know them,” she pushed.

  I tried to sigh inwardly, as outward would have been rude, I always try my best not to be rude to a lady.

  “Annie, was it?” I asked as I drew small circles on the back of her hand.

  Her head jerked up and for a minute, her blue eyes narrowed. Shit.

  “Tara, my name is Tara,” she pouted.

  Oops, that was my bad. I wasn’t generally bad with names but after a twelve-hour flight with a crying baby seated behind me, I wasn’t on my A-game.

  I put one hand on her slender neck and rubbed her ear lobe between my fingers. As always, it worked like a charm, she nestled her cheek into my hand. All was forgiven, God I love women.

  “Sorry, doll, I think the name is McDougall, they live in Dublin,” I told her as I continued to pet her like a cat.

  She sat straight up and stared at me. I was about to ask her if she knew the McDougalls but Tara shook her head and started to laugh.

  “Ach, this is brilliant. Your brother is marrying Cami’s cousin then?” she asked seemingly pleased by the connection.

  “So you know Camille?” I asked using her full name. I know everyone called her Cami, but I just couldn’t do it, anyone with as much spirit as Camille had should never be abbreviated.

  Hearing the pilot announce we were about to land I buckled my seatbelt and looked over at Tara and waited. Something about her face changed, the features I once thought to be cute seemed distorted, and less attractive, as she sat there with a mean smirk on her face.