Pisces - Mr. Imagination: The 12 Signs of Love (The Zodiac Lovers Series Book 3) Read online

  PISCES

  Mr. IMAGINATION

  THE TWELVE SIGNS OF LOVE

  (The Zodiac Lovers Series)

  Written by Tiana Laveen

  Edited by Natalie Owens

  Cover by Travis Pennington

  BOOK 1: Capricorn – Mr. Ambition

  BOOK 2: Aquarius – Mr. Humanitarian

  BOOK 3: Pisces – Mr. Imagination

  BOOK 4: Aries – Mr. Adventure

  BOOK 5: Taurus – Mr. Persistent

  BOOK 6: Gemini – Mr. Versatile

  BOOK 7: Cancer – Mr. Intuitive

  BOOK 8: Leo – Mr. Boss

  BOOK 9: Virgo – Mr. Intelligent

  BOOK 10: Libra – Mr. Romantic

  BOOK 11: Scorpio – Mr. Magnetic

  BOOK 12: Sagittarius – Mr. Philosophical

  Welcome to the “Zodiac Lovers Series” –

  The 12 Signs of Love.

  This is a series which features a hunky hero for each zodiac sign of the year!

  All novels in this series are standalone, so you can purchase any or all of them as you wish, without missing a beat. Each Hero embodies typical characteristics of their zodiac sign, but please bear in mind, this is simply for fun and not intended to mean that men of any sign mentioned will act as described. Each unique tale chronicles the life of the hero and heroine’s quest for love and romance.

  Some of the heroes are serious and brooding, others capricious and fun-loving. Some of the tales will feel like a modern-day fairytale while others will take a more serious tone. Some of these stories may lie somewhere in between.

  This series is written from the heart.

  Enjoy!

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Tiana Laveen

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. PIRACY IS AGAINST THE LAW.

  IN OTHER WORDS: If you do any of the above, the karma bus is waiting for you. If you steal this author’s work and illegally loan and/or share it, request illegal/free copies online and/or in printed version, you are no better than a burglar that breaks into someone’s house while you think they are away. You are a criminal. A thief. A cheat. You don’t work for free, so why should authors?!

  WE WORK HARD. SHOW SOME APPRECIATION.

  BLURB

  Paxton Starr is a world-famous illusionist. Deemed a mastermind in his field, he is often described as a modern-day Houdini with the ability to levitate and make purple flower petals rain from the sky. Yet, when not performing, he shies away from the limelight. People know little about the private life of this untouchable, enigmatic man—not much past the fact that he enjoys a good glass of cognac and taking a dive in the pool, or better yet, when the time allows, in the Pacific Ocean. That is, until one headstrong reporter for the Las Vegas Sun, Ivy Faye, gets the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an exclusive interview with him.

  Ivy is driven, savvy, and a self-proclaimed proud manipulator. This has gotten her far in her line of business and she will stop at nothing to get her award-winning exclusives. Treating Mr. Starr as one of many to unravel, she has no idea about what she has signed up for. Starr is no ordinary man and it will take more than a pretty smile and well-placed words to find out what makes him tick.

  What begins as a typical weekend interview turns into an inferno of hot chemistry and more unanswered questions. Paxton is not willing to put all his playing cards on the table, but Ivy’s conflicting career goals and attraction for him force them both into a position neither dreamed possible. What do you do when friends betray you, love comes waltzing in, and the roll of the dice amounts to more than luck? Paxton forces Ivy to discover that the true illusionist may not be him. It could very well be the woman in the mirror…

  WARNING

  Please bear in mind that each book in this series is adult in nature and includes:

  Profanity – (sometimes gratuitous depending on the characters/specific book in the series)

  Explicit intimate encounters – (this is consistent in all 12 novels of this series.)

  Adult topics and situations – (This could be anything from drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, neglect, disease, etc.)

  If you are offended or triggered by any of the above mentioned, please consider this before moving forward.

  Thank You.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all the Pisces in the world who are generous, caring, kind and considerate. You are the dreamers of the zodiac, and you give others inspiration to think outside the box. Thank you for your beautiful contributions to the world around you. We are mere fish swimming in your ocean.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About this Book

  Warning

  Dedication

  Letter to the Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  LETTER TO THE READER

  To my Laveen Queens and Kings, welcome. If you’ve been rocking with me for a while now, then there are no words to express my gratitude. To any new readers who happen upon this book—welcome, and thank you for going on this journey with me. All right, so as to the question that many will ask: why did you create this series, Tiana? Since a very early age, I have nurtured an interest in the field of astrology. It wasn’t something I relied upon necessarily, but I was intrigued by it, especially if a specific forecast rang true. Regardless of any one’s personal beliefs, astrology can at least be considered an interesting study. Some believe it to be total nonsense. Others believe there may be some credibility, but it is still rather farfetched. Yet others believe that the entire subject is evil while some tend to take it quite seriously and consider it no laughing matter. Whatever one’s beliefs, please suspend them for the reading of this romance series.

  None of the books in this series are about conjecturing, prophecy, predictions etc. They are merely avenues, or tools, if you will, to view the astrological sign as a gateway into a particular character. This is used to highlight a few key characteristics, be they good, bad, or indifferent, about all 12 zodiac signs from a male perspective.

  I am an author who writes lengthy books by default. You would be hard-pressed to find over 10% of my portfolio that does not hit the 100
k+ word mark. With that being said, I wanted this series to be full-bodied, but not overwhelming. I wanted to write love stories that unfold in a timely manner, something a reader could knock out in a day or two, but not be explored so fleetingly that the reader misses my signature character and story development. I prefer to write extensive novels because I am practically addicted to the human mind – the psychology behind a character. Why did he say that? Why did she do that? How did this happen? Who were their parents? And so on and so forth.

  This kind of in-depth exploration takes time, which equals a longer page count. Longer does not always equate to better, however, and in my personal writing journey this series has been inside my mind for quite some time and needed to come out. I wanted the series to be standalone, meaning if a reader only wished to read Pisces, Cancer and Libra, they could do so without missing key components. In fact, my “Raven Maxim” series is similar – no book is contingent upon the other, though the stories take place in the same town. That series is ongoing and may never end, because I have given myself permission, as an author, to fully explore the characters, the city etc., and not worry about readers waiting a long time for a conclusion due to a succession of cliffhangers. Series are mostly either loved or hated, but standalone books in a series, to me, merge the best of both worlds. In the Zodiac series, the link that binds the books is that you, the reader, are looking at the hero’s astrological sign. But there is so much more to these men, these exciting heroes, than this.

  These guys are all different, from all walks of life. They tell their tale in the manner that they see fit. Some are entertaining, others inspiring.

  In this 12-part series, you will meet 12 men and their love interests.

  12 signs…

  12 different minds…

  12 lifetimes…

  You will sit back and watch the magic unfold.

  Please get comfortable, grab your favorite beverage, and enjoy the, “Zodiac Lover Series – The Twelve Signs of Love.”

  It is a gift from me to you…

  Tiana Laveen

  Tiana Laveen

  When I first meet someone, I trust them. I have a tendency to give the benefit of the doubt until I am proven wrong. Some believe I’m a little too trusting. Perhaps that’s true. I can see deep inside of people, witness their pain and hurt, their wishes and desires. Some call that ‘intuitive’. I see the good in people, so when I discover they are different than what I pegged them as, I not only find it disappointing, but that discovery cuts into my soul. I use my imagination to find solutions to problems because I’m a dreamer. I don’t like ugliness in the world, so sometimes I create my own world and invite others to join in my fun. I’m compassionate, philosophical at times, and when the world becomes too much, I have a tendency to withdraw and, at times, to self-medicate. I can become temperamental once I feel misled, and some have accused me of being spiteful, too. It’s not beneath me to seek revenge, for when I hurt, I do so deeply, especially if I gave you my heart and you crushed it. I’m not proud of this, but I’m honest enough with myself to acknowledge these thoughts do cross my mind. When my energy is low, I just wish to be alone, but one thing is certain: I believe in love. I believe in giving myself to someone, while they give themselves to me.

  I don’t want a piece of you; I want all of you.

  I am your Pisces lover…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eye of the Tiger

  The bright crackle of manufactured light lit up the deep purple darkness. Like a million rattlesnakes hissing at once, the sounds morphed and married, then going into a crescendo. A massive boom rang through the auditorium and the show began at the Linq Hotel and Casino on South Las Vegas Boulevard in Las Vegas. Floodlit tendrils of dirty gray smoke infused with sparkling white lights created an artificial sky above the sold-out seating in the auditorium.

  The rowdy crowd jumped to their feet when Paxton Starr, world renowned master illusionist, entered the stage. This was his last performance for the week, following a year of enactments at this venue, according to Ivy Faye’s playbook. She’d kept close tabs on him.

  Ivy had gotten tickets from a friend of a friend, who’d pulled some strings on her behalf. Starr’s shows sold out fast and always days before the scheduled event. Perhaps it was more than just his talent that drew the crowd, but the enigmatic distance, tempered by semblances of closeness, he maintained with the outside world. This must be a juggling act for the man, one he’d mastered to perfection. Ivy reached into her pocket and found her ticket stub; she’d save it, put it in a safe place. Knowing people in high places turned out to be a plus, for not only did she snap one of the most wanted tickets in town, but hers was a front row seat.

  Even knee deep in the boisterous hullabaloo, her journalistic mind was always twisting and turning, working the midnight oil, burning the black magic candle at both ends. She turned in all directions, memorizing faces, expressions, screams of joy. The placed was filled with the usual suspects: habitual gamblers trying to forget the thousands of dead presidents lost in their betting sessions; naïve, overjoyed tourists from around the world; high-rollers needing a break from it all; carousing drunkards; expensive escorts out on dates; and families looking for an exciting getaway from the ho-hum of life. She turned back towards the stage, fully aware that the man of the hour was there, but he’d been partially hidden behind a large, black partition, engulfed in bellows of thick fog. The thing lifted, revealing the man himself…

  Whoa, he is much bigger in person than he appears on television…

  Donning a black leather bomber jacket, loose black jeans and thick soled boots, he marched across the stage as if he owned it along with every miserable and merry soul in there. His 6’4” frame cast a shadow as the three circular sky blue lights beamed from above and chased his commanding steps. She took particular notice of the hint of a tattoo on his chest, peeking from his V-neck black shirt beneath the coat. His dark hair appeared almost blue under the lights, carefully coiffed and brushed high and back away from his distinctive, angular face, its strong lines so appealing.

  The short black beard, sideburns, mustache, and thick eyebrows suited him. When he tilted his head back, a tattoo became visible on the side of his neck, next to his Adam’s apple—a design she couldn’t identify. On the right side of the auditorium, a large screen showed a close up shot of his face. His eyes were a stormy gray color and yes—she could clearly see now the man had a small scar on his right cheek. It reminded her of a broken tree limb, or perhaps, a lifeline during a palm reading. She looked back at the stage and was surprised at how close he was to her now. He’d moved fast, almost in stealth mode.

  Starr paused, looked out in the audience, and winked, triggering a peppering of laughter. Raising his arm in the air, he showed his ringed fingers as he turned his hands back and forth to demonstrate they were empty. On a dime, the man snapped his fingers and out fluttered two bats, causing a mix of loud oohs and aahs, shrieks and giggles from the audience. Ivy Faye soon felt a rumbling in her legs and chest, as if the floor beneath her feet were being shaken by God himself. Music blared through speakers overhead. The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” bled life into the already amped up mob while Paxton tossed the audience a sultry smirk. He appeared so comfortable in his own skin and had full command of himself and his surroundings.

  He swam in a sea he’d created, in which he wasn’t the biggest fish, but the only fish. Clapping hands and stomping feet resounded as he raced to the other side of the stage, the lights turning blood red all around him. Each step he took was jagged, odd, like a zombie, until he split in two. Ivy grinned as she covered her mouth and shook her head. You had to see it to believe it… The crowd erupted in applause, but all Ivy could do was stare at the man and try to figure out how in the hell he’d pull off such a fascinating, creepy, and spellbinding illusion. Tapping her chin, she struggled to remain unmoved on the outside. After all, this was for research purposes…

  He then spun around in fas
t circles like some ice skater, only the floor was made of wood and he had on shoes. When he stopped the whirlwind, he was whole again, one man, and his illusionary twin had vanished. His chest heaving and most of the crowd roaring like animals, he stayed still for several seconds, allowing everyone to drink it all in. Then, suddenly, he broke into several somersaults until he was practically standing right in front of her. As if in slow motion, he repeated his actions backwards, remaining suspended in midair for several seconds. On a huff, Ivy whipped out her cellphone and typed herself a note to remember:

  Paxton Starr has done his famous somersault drift illusion. He has been known to do it on the streets, in particular, the Vegas strip, with no props, rendering the same results.

  She placed her cell phone back in her pocket, crossed her arms, and continued to watch. Marilyn Manson’s “Killing Strangers” began to play as two scantily clad women, built like sex dolls, marched onto the stage wearing long black lace jackets, flapping open to reveal nothing more than bright red bras, panties, and matching stiletto heels. They each pulled out thick roped chains and approached Starr who was now standing in the middle of the stage, his head down, long locks of black hair spilling from his head. Crossing his arms over his body, he remained still, frozen in time, as the two women began to wrap his body in the restraints, padlock them in several places, then stand off to the side, bobbing their blond-haired heads to the beat of the music. Just then, the music simmered to a whisper and Paxton looked out into the audience.

  “These two lovely ladies need a volunteer each,” he said in a deep, echoing voice. He’d barely got the statement out when arms rose in the air like shooting rockets. “Priscilla and Patience, please help our volunteers to the stage.”