Please Love Me Back Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. 

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Please wake up and love me back.

Please.

Emily Hasting stops writing and smiles her small yet serene smile.  This is her one-hundredth letter to her lover. Her furry, tall, dark, movie star handsome, badass, unconscious but no-longer-secret lover. Her peacefully sleeping prince in shining armor. Her Joseph. She lets out a small sigh and seals the letter. Her hair has been cut shorter. Her handwriting is neat and tidy, as usual. She has gotten used to her new life here. The food is not great but acceptable. Her room is small and narrow but not extremely uncomfortable. Her neighbors are loud and rude and mostly uneducated. But that's not a big problem for Emily Hasting. She always, always knows how to tolerate the less...fortunate people. It's her duty as a civilized good Catholic woman to be thoughtful, kind, truthful and considerate. She stands up from her bed, goes down on her knees and starts praying. For her precious Joseph, of course. He is the only meaning of her life. He is the only joy of her world. He is the only center of her universe. He is the anchor of her existence. He is her Joseph. Her one and only Joseph. He is the man in her dream. He is the man of her destiny. He is her fate. He is her hope. Without him, she is nothing. Without him, life is not worth living. Without him, the galaxy is but a silent black hole.

Emily's shoulders start to shake as hot burning tears fall down her face. Her whole body trembles with ragged sobs. Her crying echoes through the corridors. All the other inmates wince and cringe. They try their best to keep away from her. They can't decide if she's really that crazy or dangerous. She's always polite and quiet. She's always pleasant and nice. She's just like the girl next door. She's just like the friendly good-mannered childhood friend they all have back home. But there's something in her misty gray eyes that scares them stiff. There's something about that ordinary average smiling face that sends chills up and down their spines. This woman has a beautiful voice. This woman knows how to make perfect cupcakes. This woman knows how to make perfect iced tea. This woman knows how to use a Glock. This woman knows how to slash and thrust a professional hunting knife. This woman knows how to make perfect exquisite time bombs. This woman is sentenced for life without parole. This woman moans and groans and laughs and screams in her sleep every single night. This woman frightens them to death. Even though she didn't actually kill anyone. Even though she went to her church choir practice as if nothing had happened and sang like an angel after setting off the bombs...

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. 

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph. Dear Joseph.

Please wake up and love me back.

Please.

Joe Morelli looks around, trying to find where the sweet enchanting voice is coming from. He has been trapped in the dark dense woods for ages. He's tired and hungry. He's lost and afraid. Who is keeping on calling his name? It's not Terry. It's not Linda. It's not Carol. It's not Rita. It's not Amy. It's not Betty. It's not Mary. It's not Janice. It's not Janine. It's not Annie. It's not Lucy. It's not his mother. It's not His grandmother. It's not Steph...Stephanie. Who is the owner of this warm beautiful voice? He has to find her. He has to go to her. He has to look into her eyes. He has to kiss her lips. He has to wrap her in his arms. He has to feel her. He has to accept her. He has to...he has to...he has to love her. Love her. LOVE her!

The nurse jumps and squeals as the unconscious patient suddenly sits up in his bed and opens his eyes. His lips slowly part. He croaks out an almost silent word. The nurse puts a hand over her still wildly thumping heart and presses the calling button.  

Joe Morelli has finally woken up from his coma.  

Yeah, Life Still Sucks

My cat is still sick.
I am still tortured and tormented by my worries, sorrows and fears.
I hate being helpless.
I hate feeling hopeless.
I hate myself for being unable to do anything.
Anything.
I know I should be on my knees praying for my cat and myself right now.
But I need to find a vent for my pain.
I need to write it out. 
Fear.
Worry.
Pain.
Sorrow.
Frustration.
Helplessness.
Hopelessness.
Guilt.
Depression.


And I still don't like Cupcakes, BTW.

Be My Valentine

Chapter 26

The confession is disturbing, if not scary and chilling. The evidences are solid. The motive is clear. The time bombs are indeed most perfectly and exquisitely made. The poor delusional thirty-eight-year-old single slim white woman who has never dated or been kissed is apparently mad but unfortunately not legally insane. All kinds of merciless rumours and vicious gossips thrive and refuse to stop. Curious locals, exciting tourists and enterprising street vendors crowd the once quiet and narrow street. Photos are taken from every angle of the two lovely cozy two-story houses. Like a roller-coaster the selling number of cupcakes soars and soars and suddenly drops. Like Sleeping Beauty or Rip Van Winkle the tall dark—now a little pale, though—handsome and furry Trenton police detective Joseph Anthony Morelli slumbers on. There's nothing medically wrong with Mr. Morelli really, the doctors patiently explain to the worried family and the persisting reporters. The human body is an extremely complicated machine that contains more wonders and mysteries than anyone can imagine. Right now they can only say Mr. Morelli will wake up when he's ready. Who knows, maybe he will opens his melted chocolate eyes, stretch, yawn and smiles his ever so charming smile late this night or tomorrow morning.

Stephanie Plum looks into the mirror and tries not to sigh. She's all alone inside Ranger's tastefully decorated apartment, and for the very first time in her life, she is truly happy and contented. She has never ever regretted her choice and decision. But somehow she just can't stop feeling guilty and ashamed about what happened. And from time to time the small sneaky voice in her heart will question her if she really, really deserves any happiness.

Is she a good enough person?

Is she a good enough woman?

Is she a good enough daughter?

Is she a good enough hamster owner?

Is she a good enough live-in girlfriend?

Why does Emily Hasting—an almost complete stranger—hate her this much?

Why did Joe decide to reach for his gun?

What if she's not good enough?

What if it was actually all her fault?

And why can't she stop doubting herself?

Once again she searches her own eyes. Once again she finds no answer. Maybe she will never know. Maybe she will always question and doubt herself. But she knows all she can do right now is try her best and live her life. She's with Ranger now. She loves him and he loves her back.

And that alone is more than enough.

~The End~

Be My Valentine Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Emily screams and wails. Elizabeth fights and curses. Fear. Surprise. Anger. Humiliation. Disbelief. Terror. Desperation. Despair. All kinds of emotions boil inside the plain but always nice and polite Miss Hasting, part-time librarian, community volunteer, excellent chef, talented pâtissière, and lead singer of the church choir. She thinks of all her hopes and longings in life. She thinks of all the things she hates and loves. All her nightmares and dreams. All her ambitions and failures. All her glory and pride. All her contributions and sacrifices. All her hurt. All her pain. All her disappointment. All her shame. All her fake and forced smiles. All her silent sobs and hidden tears. All her lonely days. All her empty nights. All her struggles and desperate attempts.

What's so wrong to want to be loved by the man you love?

What's so wrong to want to have something you do not have?

What's so wrong to want to do the right thing and correct the wrong?

What's so wrong to want to step up for yourself and season your tasteless life?

Emily Elizabeth Rosemary Hasting looks up at heaven seeking an answer, but all she sees is a blur of shadows and colors. She barks out a shaky ragged laugh. She has failed her sacred mission. She has lost her ultimate purpose. She did not manage to kill Stephanie Plum. She did not manage to kill that tall Cuban. She's not going to have her own Happily Ever After with her Joseph. Her tall dark lean muscular fun kind humorous handsome dangerous perfect badass Joseph. She's not going to sit by his sick-bed and smile her most beautiful charming smile while watching him eat his cannolis. The best cannolis. The cannolis she now won't be able to make especially for him...

A drop of crystal tear falls down her cheek. Another one soon follows as her whole body shakes with unbearable sorrow. She's not going to be Joseph Anthony Morelli's Cupcake. His one and only and special and unique Cupcake. His yummy gooey soft fluffy sweet tasty Cupcake...

Be My Valentine Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Frank Plum can't stop trembling while giving his statement. He didn't call home. He knew his wife would not answer the phone. He looks pale and tired. His coffee and doughnuts remain untouched. He has never been so angry and scared before in his life. He almost collapsed and crumbled to the ground when he finally mustered enough strength to get out of his car. He is no stranger to guns and violence. He was a member of the U.S. Army. He has a gun and he lives in New Jersey. He has witnessed death more than once before. However, he never ever really has the military mentality. He doesn't like guns. He avoids fights and disputes at all costs. He just wants an uneventful life. Now as he sits still in the cheap uncomfortable chair, self-loathing, shame and guilt swallow him whole. His younger daughter could have been killed or severely injured right before his eyes. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing. The helplessness and fear he felt frighten him.

Stephanie Plum's cop friends don't know what to say. They feel they should say something to lighten the mood, but now is not the right time for jokes. They feel sorry for Stephanie Plum. They feel bad about what Joe Morelli attempted to do. They are glad Ranger was there. They know someone will always get hurt in a love triangle. But at lease the other two will have a chance for true happiness. So they hug her and pat her on the back. They smile as Frank Plum, with reddened eyes, gathers his daughter in his arms and shakes Ranger's hand. They ignore the calls from their curious friends, neighbors and family members. They are simply grateful and relieved that the never-ending melodrama known as the Cupcake Chronicles is now finally and officially over. Thank God for big favors. It had been dragging on for way too long.

The slender yet muscular Hispanic man and his man-mountain of a partner watch the monitor screens closely. The creamy yellow Toyota has just stopped and parked at the entrance of an alleyway across the street behind their building after circling this block for the fifth time. And there's something eerily suspicious about the woman driving the Prius. They have run the license plate in their database. They know her name, her job and her address. But they have no idea why she is here. They watch the part-time librarian getting out of her car. They watch her crossing the street. They have a really bad feeling about the baby pink duffle bag in her hand. They hear Tank bark out a command. They hear the muffled screams of a woman. They hear someone whistle. They hear someone curse. A Glock. Two knives. And three time bombs? What the Hell? Time to call Ranger.

Another Day Has Gone By

And I still don't like Cupcakes.

Be My Valentine Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Elizabeth Hasting is a tough woman with iron-like will power and determination. She always wants to be perfect and the best. She hates losing. She despises losers. She doesn't cry. She never whines. She sets her goal and pursues it. Step by step. Hour by hour. Day by day. Year by year. Yes, she has courage. Yes, she has patience. She's the one who sets the course. She's the one who calls the shot. She's the one who allows Emily to handle the trifles. She's the one who allows Emily to moan secretly and dreamily and to drool a little whenever they see Joseph...Joseph, their ever so handsome and charming Joseph. Their ever so attractive and sexy Joseph. Their prince in shining armor. Their hot-blooded fun-loving thrill-seeking badass Italian Stallion. They are both hopelessly and madly in love with Joseph. They love and adore and worship everything about Joseph. They love his furry chest. They love his furry legs. They love his dazzling smile. They love his lean, not overly muscular body. They love his off-white teeth. They love the scar on his brow. They love the strong smell of garlic, beer and oregano in his breath. He is the man in their dream. He is their happiness. He is their heart. He is their life. He is their destiny. He will always, always have their love and loyalty. And now they are going to avenge him.

Nobody can beat him up. Nobody can knock him out. Nobody can humiliate him in public and put him in a coma. He is Joseph Anthony Morelli. He is Super Cop. He is Officer Hottie. He is good at bar fights. He knows how to finger girls in his father's garage. He knows how to sweet talk and charm girls and women out of their panties and take their virginity. He knows how to write the very best dirty poems on public bathroom walls. He has the best and furriest butt in whole Trenton. He is movie star handsome. He is humourous and fun. He is understanding and accepting. He is clever. He is smart. He is perfect, strong and tough. He is God's Christmas present to all mankind. And whoever hurts him shall pay the price. Whoever cheats on him shall be punished with death.

Emily nods her head vigorously as Elizabeth smiles. Everyone at the community volunteers meeting keeps joking, eating and chatting. No one takes notice of their departure. They get in their car and start the engine. They check their bombs, their knives, their gun and their delicate wrist watch. They know they have the recipe for cannoli somewhere in their files. They knows they have all the necessary ingredients in their well-equipped spotless modern kitchen. They know Joseph's ward number. Now all they have to do is drive over to that hideous seven-floored building and kill that Ranger and his Stephanie. Then all will be well.

Yay.