By: Beverley Kendall

My life has turned out to be such a cliché. And not in a good way.

It’s not exactly Sixteen and Pregnant, but at eighteen my only advantage is a high school diploma. And if that’s not enough, the father—and I use that term loosely—couldn’t have hightailed it out of my life fast enough.

I thought I really knew him. Unfortunately, my boyfriend of three years transformed from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde once he realized his carefree, childless days would be coming to an end.

I’m over him now though. The real love of my life is chubby, has more gum than teeth, and stands a little over two feet tall. She may not have been planned, but I’ve never regretted having her. She is the center of my world.

A world that's turned upside down when my ex returns ready to earn the love and trust of the child he abandoned before birth.

Letting him into my daughter’s life is one thing but letting him back into mine isn't going to happen. Because the biggest mistake of my life has a name, and that name is Mitchell Aaron Kingsley.

And he's one mistake I don't ever intend to make again.

Note from Author

TRAPPED can be read as a stand alone novel, but for a fuller reading experience—to see what happened between Paige and Mitch before, during, and in the immediate aftermath of the birth of their daughter—you’ll want to read the free prequel, THE TRAP.

Chapter 1


New York

Who the hell is knocking on my door?

I angle my head to check the time on the cable box. It’s 10:50 p.m., too late for visitors and too early for Steve to be back from his date with April.

Shannon doesn’t stop kissing me so I can only assume either she didn’t hear the knock or is ignoring the interruption and wants me to do the same.

I try to get back into the kiss but give up when whoever’s on the other side of the door refuses to go away, the knocks sharper, harder, more impatient sounding.


I gently push Shannon away and off my lap. “I got to get that,” I mumble, two beers away from being officially drunk, a condition I’m probably a little too familiar with for my own good. I’m a responsible drunk though. I never drink and drive.

“Who is it?” she asks, her blue eyes dulled by her own alcohol consumption.

“I don’t know,” I grunt and push to my feet.

I leave her on the couch pouting. This is the second time we’ve hung out. No sex yet. Thought I’d seal the deal tonight.

Another knock has me impatiently yanking open the door.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

I catch a glimpse of my sister just before she brushes past me and into the apartment.

And here I’d half convinced myself that Steve must have lost his keys.

“Diane, what the hell?” I absently push the door shut before turning to face her. But she’s still on the move, marching purposefully toward the living room.

What is she doing here?

Did something happen to Paige or the baby?

No, Diane’s too pissed for that, I quickly conclude, my momentary panic subsiding.

She screeches to a halt when she sees Shannon and takes in the state of her clothing. I thank God we’d only just started fooling around and that my date still has her bra and jeans on.

Whipping around, Diane glares at me. “Is she the reason you’re not coming home this time?” she demands, gesturing toward Shannon.

Slow to react initially, Shannon picks her blouse off the floor, quickly shoving her arms into the sleeves, before frantically buttoning it up. “Mitch, who is she?”

“I am his sister,” Diane replies tersely, turning her glare back on my date.

“What are you doing here?” I ask pointedly.

Diane’s head jerks in my direction, her gaze narrowing until her eyes are slitted.

“You haven’t been home in over a year and you’re asking me what I’m doing here?” She pauses and does that thing with her hands—palms down, fingers splayed at her sides—when she’s trying to control her emotions. After exhaling a deep breath, she says calmly, “Look, you may want to ask your date to leave because I’m pretty sure you’re not going to want her to hear what I have to say.”

My sister should know better than to throw out a challenge like that, especially when I’ve been drinking. “No, say whatever you have to say so I can get on with my date.”