Invited to her ex-husband's engagement party, Jillian Roper shows up in thigh high boots. And Denver Cereal begins.
An Internet sensation, Denver Cereal is a serial romantic fiction grounded in Uptown Denver, Colorado. Crunchy, sweet and always addicting - you deserve a little Denver Cereal in your life.
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Excerpt:
"You cannot be serious," Megan said to Jill.
Jill's hazel eyes shifted to catch Megan's reflection in the full length mirror. Jill nodded then smiled at Megan's sour face. Jill zipped the back of her tight black leather skirt and tugged at the starched white shirt. Reaching behind her, Jill took a white vest from Megan.
"Turn around," Megan said.
Jill turned so Megan could help her button the vest.
"It's tight but..." Megan buttoned the top button in the white shirt.
Jill turned back to the mirror to evaluate. At twenty five years old, post one baby, she was still round and flat in all the right places. Leaning around the Colorado Rockies sticker on the mirror, she checked for mascara smudges.
"You are not going," Megan said. "I'm going," Jill replied.
Jill wandered into her bedroom looking for the matching black pump to the four inch heel she held in her hand. Her head was under the bed when Megan said:
"He only invited you as a courtesy."
Jill grabbed the pump from under the middle of the bed.
"I have an invitation. I'm going," Jill said. "I want Trevor McGuinsey to see what he's missing."
"He's not going to see any farther than his fianc?'s father's wallet."
Before Jill could put the shoes on her feet, Megan snatched them from her hand.
Jill looked Megan in the eye. "You are not helping, sis."
"I don't have any intention of helping my little sister make a complete fool out of herself."
Turning the shoes back and forth, Megan shook her head at the worn, dry Salvation Army found shoes. She peered at the point of the heel. At least the plastic wasn't showing yet.
Megan dropped the shoes in resignation. Why fight it? She could never resist Jill.
"Wear your boots," Megan said. "If you want my help, don't just bring the boots. Wear them."
Jill's eyes grew wide. She trotted into her bedroom closet and pulled out the boots, those beautiful boots. Holding the boots against her chest, Jill drew in the smell of the butter soft black leather from the thigh-high five-inch stiletto heel boots. They smelled like love, luck and happiness.
Trevor bought these boots at the Mile High Flea Market. They were three hundred dollars cash, more money than they had seen in six months, and so worth it. They had a good time in these boots. Trevor used to tell people that Katy was conceived with these boots. They were lucky boots. She used to tease him that they were his 'get lucky' boots.
Of course, she was wearing these boots, languishing in post coital bliss, when he told her. Pressing the divorce papers across the crumpled covers, he asked her to sign. He had met a rich girl. She was going to pay for law school at Denver University. He was doing it for Katy. Certainly Jill would understand.
But Jill never understood.
Oh, she signed the papers then scrubbed the remnants of him from her body, her apartment, and her life. When he returned, his things were waiting for him in the hall and the locks were changed. With Jill sobbing on the other side, he screamed, "I don't love the rich girl," and pounded on the cheap hollow core apartment door for an hour. Trevor only left because the apartment manager said he would call the police.
"Now, how's that gonna look to the rich girl, Trevor?" the apartment manager sneered.
Tonight, Trevor was to be officially engaged to the rich girl at a black tie affair.
Returning to the mirror, Jill saw that Megan was right. The boots looked great.
"Let me get the tie." Megan tied a black bow tie around Jill's neck. "You have the jacket with tails?"
"Mike's bringing it when he picks me up in the limo," Jill said.
"Do you want me to come?" Megan asked.
"I can do this, Meg," Jill said. "Steve's working security. If I need to get out fast, he'll be there."
"Mike and Steve are both in on this? What about Candy?" "She's working the bar. I'm sorry, sis. They didn't tell you
because they thought you would be mad."
Megan shook her head. Of course their brothers and sister were in on this. No one but Megan saw that Jill was making a fool out of herself. But Jill always made a fool of herself over Trevor.
"He's my soul mate," Jill pleaded when she needed Megan's signature on their marriage license. Sixteen years old and in love. Now twenty-five years old and heart crushed.
