Mary Sue and the Petal Pink Curse

Chapter 1

My name is Mary Sue Lovemore, and these are the chronicles of my rise from ordinary human to supernatural Queen of Everything.

For a minute there, I could have sworn that writing in my journal felt…familiar. But no, I had never been into all that emo, deep contemplation. I had better things to do with my time—like getting my highlights touched up or my toenails painted. That is…until now.

I paused to look down at the notebook, wondering where to start my tale of woe.

Maybe it should start with how I was an orphan.

Or how I’d wondered where I would get the money to pay rent after I got fired from my low-paying job by my nasty boss.

Or…maybe I should start with how my dog ran away and my car died.

Man, my life really was pathetic. People were gonna love it!

I glanced down at my chipped manicure. Okay, I definitely had to start with the worst of the disasters plaguing me. I took a bracing breath and blinked back my no-doubt sparkling tears. (Ugly crying is for peasants.)

It all started the day my favorite shade of Playful Petal Pink nail polish was…discontinued.

I sniffled, holding back the tears that threatened to fall when my eyes once again landed on my fading pink nails.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a cultured voice interrupted, drawing me away from my enthralling tale.

I glanced at Hedwig, the head butler of the fancy mansion I’d suddenly inherited just that morning. “Yes?”

I wasn’t used to having servants, but it was important that I at least pretend to try and get used to it. For appearance’s sake, you know.

“There’s a package for you,” the ancient butler said with a slight grimace. “I tried to send him away, but the man insists on delivering the package directly into your hands.”

“Is he hot?” I asked gravely.

Hedwig blinked at me. “Well…I can hardly say, Miss. He was…um…strapping? Yes. Strapping young man. His uniform seemed a bit…tight, what with all those bulging muscles….”

I sighed and tucked my notebook away. My story would have to wait. Clearly, it was my duty to take the hot delivery man’s package. I had a household to run now, after all. Responsibilities.

I stood, fluffing out my long, lustrous, thick, curly, golden, amazing hair. Putting my hands on my luscious, curvy, hourglass hips, I looked up at the butler. “Lead on.”

He frowned, as if he was about to say something. But his features smoothed out. “Of course, Miss.”

Hedwig led me down the sweeping wooden stairs to the front entry, then bowed low and excused himself.

I paused to take in the “package” that had showed up on my doorstep.

Strapping was certainly an accurate description.

The man was huge, just miles of muscle packed into a ridiculous brown uniform with shorts.

Thighs like tree trunks. I wiped the drool away.

His brown skin had a sheen of sweat from the heat outside, and I instantly wanted to climb him and lick it off.

What was wrong with me? I wasn’t usually such a slut, I swear! He must be special.

“Miss Lovemore?” he asked in a deep, panty-melting rumble of a voice.

I craned my neck back and looked up at him from my tiny, delicate little female height. “Yes.” Oh yes. Please.

He shook his head, like he was confused. Maybe he was fighting the same overwhelming attraction I currently felt blocking out everything else around me, including thoughts.

Chocolate brown eyes met mine, and he looked kinda dazed. I had that effect on people, even though I didn’t think I was attractive at all and I was super endearingly clumsy. It was just so weird. I batted my perfectly made-up eye lashes at him.

“This is for you,” he said slowly. “I was instructed to give it to you in person. Must be important.” He held out a small cardboard box. My fingers brushed his and a tremor of want rushed through my veins. I almost orgasmed on the spot. Fiddling fudge sticks, this guy was hot.

What? I might be a bit of a slut, but I was a lady. Lady’s don’t swear. Swearing isn’t cute at all. Besides, it made me quirky. And everyone loves quirky.

He moved closer, and for one breathless moment, I thought he was about to kiss me. My heart raced, my lungs ached, and my molten core quivered like a pudding cup in needy expectation. He glanced down at the box. “I’m supposed to stay until you open my package.”

I frowned. Weird. But the hot guy could hang out as long as he wanted. Things didn’t have to make sense. I glanced from the package I held in my hands to the one in his shorts, then back again. Maybe I could open both packages? Oh my god, Mary Sue, focus!

I just couldn’t help it. Hot guys made my little girly brain go all mushy.

I stared at the box, wondering how I could possibly open it, with all the formidable tape.

I couldn't risk chipping what was left of my manicure.

Luckily, hot postal guy came to my rescue with a convenient box cutter.

Hot and useful. A deadly combination. I smiled at him in appreciation and pulled the flaps of the box open.

Inside was a letter and…a bottle of nail polish? My heart raced. Oh my god! It was Playful Petal Pink! My eyes watered and I almost cried with joy, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason. Unfolding the letter, I scanned it quickly to see who had just saved my life.

My breath caught in my throat and my heart stuttered as I scanned the letter again. Something cold and prickly washed over me, giving me goosebumps.

A kingdom in peril. A dying queen desperate for a successor. And my new house was the key to the hidden kingdom. Holy heck! I just knew I was meant for something amazing even though I was a complete nobody before today.

Hot postal guy put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? What is it? You look so worried.” He glanced around, his big body tense and his dark eyes scanning for threats. “I know I only just met you, but I’ll protect you to the last drop of my blood!”

I blinked at him. Wow. That was so…sweet. “I think you’re my destiny,” I breathed, leaning into his touch.

He glanced at my lips. Then at the box I still held between us. “What’s in the box?”

Oh! Right! Playful Petal Pink! I reached into the box and wrapped my fingers around the bottle of nail polish. Another wave of cold prickles washed over me, and I glanced up at the hulking hottie. “What was that?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But stay here. I mean it. Don’t follow me and risk yourself!” He dashed over to the door, three whole feet away.

It was hard, but I did as I was told and resisted the urge to follow him all the way over there. He wanted to keep me safe. And I couldn’t possibly open my own doors. Not when there was a man here to take care of me.

But don’t worry—if there was real danger I’d definitely not listen and rush right in so he’d have to rescue me in some really dramatic way. I wasn’t born yesterday.

His big hand wrapped around the door handle and he tugged, his ripped arms bulging. I was going to have to change my underwear by the time he got the door open. Silly lady bits, always gushing like a fountain.

He pulled on the door again. Nothing happened.

“We’re…trapped inside,” he said, on a low, meaningful exhale.

I looked down at the letter I still held. And so it begins.