top of page
Search

Who Doesn't Like Sneak Peeks?

Writer's picture: beccabaldwinwritesbeccabaldwinwrites

(Photo courtesy of Koolshooters via Pexels)


Just like the title says, "Who doesn't like sneak peeks?"


I certainly do. Nine times out of ten, the sneak peek helps push me towards reading a certain book. That's why I'm a big fan of giving sneak peeks. I usually send them out through my newsletter, but this time I decided to change it up and make the sneak peek available here. And just because this is the internet and yes, there are jerks out there, I have to say to those jerks that this is copyrighted material and is subject to all laws pertaining to illegal sharing and illegal distribution.


So, without any further ado, here is a little morsel from Claiming What's Mine to tempt your literary tastebuds.




MAGGIE -Cues my best snarky Italian TV show matron-


Imagine it: Chicago. 


May. 


Match Week was a week past. 


The sun was shining. Birdsong filled the air. A moderate temperature that was neither too hot, too cold, too humid, or too windy. The perfect day if there ever was one. 


My parents’ backyard was packed with party guests that had all gathered to celebrate my stepsister’s wedding. Every surface was bedecked in some type of cringe-worthy, over-the-top, pale, lemon cream-colored chiffon, lace, organza, and silk. Booze flowed like a fast moving river. A local DJ pumped out a mix of beloved 80’s tunes that no one was dancing to. The over-the-top, hideous wedding cake had been specially designed and baked by some well-known celebrity chef, but between you and me, a sheet cake from Costco would have been the better option. So much happiness surrounded me and yet, I was devastated. 


Why? 


I’ll be more than happy to tell you.


The life I’d always pictured, the one I’d imagined since I was fourteen years old was officially over. It was done. No more fairy tales. No more hopes and wishes. No more expectations. Just disappointment and heartbreak. And I watched it all come crashing down through a torrent of tears. 


You don’t have to do this,” my best friend had mouthed to me from where she had sat behind my parents earlier. The entirety of my family’s social circle, as well as the groom’s family and friends, were spread out in two separate sections of the most uncomfortable plastic chair seating known to man. Each dressed to the nines and all ready to bawl fake tears at the ‘happy couple’ as they celebrated their love by joining in the union of holy matrimony. 


My best friend, Chelsea, had been ready to go since the moment she showed up this morning, full of piss and vinegar, ranting and raving at my stepsister for subjecting me to this. 


You don’t have to do this,” she’d said for the first of many times that day as she stole a glance at my bridesmaid dress and wrinkled her nose. “We can leave this fugly dress behind—or burn it—and walk out asses out of here. You don’t have to torture yourself by watching that gold-digging whore marry that clueless asshat.”


No one could have loved their best friend more than I did during those moments. Chelsea knew the toll this was taking on me and was prepared to whisk me away from it all because that’s how deeply she loved those she chose to give that love too. 


As I stood up on the platform, flanked by the priest, the groom, and the giant, billowing evil cream puff I’d suffered on the daily, all I could do was nod, my throat tight and my ability to form words utterly gone. Especially because if the world were fair and if I hadn’t let my chance slip through my fingers, I would have been the bride instead of the bridesmaid. 


The fact that I wasn’t was killing me. My knees nearly buckled with an ache that reached deep into my soul and viciously tore me in two. I wanted to run. Wanted to flee but my feet refused to budge. Instead, they stayed rooted, forcing me to watch as my world burned to the ground, leaving only ashes behind.


“Darling.” My mom said softly, surprising me as she suddenly approached me and slipped her arm around my waist. Her warmth snapped me out of my miserable reverie. Giving me a comforting squeeze, she kissed my cheek before whispering once again that everything was going to be okay. 


Her comfort was well-meant, but I knew the truth. It wasn’t going to be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. And that was something I’d just have to live with whether I liked it or not. 


I’d been doing my best to hide my misery because I was unfortunately dressed in some orange-colored monstrosity my stepsister picked out. Everyone who I interacted with today all met me with the same reaction. Pity. Their words and their smiles may have said one thing but the fact that I looked like a brought-to-life dollar store knock off version of an Oompa Loompa only made their pitiful looks that much more pronounced. 


You looked . . . lovely up there.” My aunt had said as her orange-red lipstick stained the outer circumference of her mouth. 


It was a lovely ceremony,” another woman, some woman who was in one of my mother’s charities, plastered on the fakest smile ever engineered. “And you, well, you certainly were colorful.”


"God, you look awful! Why would Ginny make you wear that dress?" That last one belonged to my cousin Stuie, a twenty-year old tech genius who had been born without a filter.


What everyone, excluding Stu, had wanted to say, was that I looked hideous because apparently road cone orange was the only color my darling stepsister would allow because she didn’t want me or the other bridesmaid—the one who didn’t bother to show up—to outshine her on her ‘special day.’ 


Special day, my ass. 


This was nothing more than Ginny’s attempt to be the center of attention. 


Again. 


I mean, not that she shouldn’t. She was the bride afterall, but if you knew Ginny, you’d know this so-called celebration wasn’t about marrying the man she loved. Not even a little bit. It was about boosting her already over-inflated ego after landing herself a rich husband that she’d no doubt end up cheating on, and most of all, rubbing it all in my face. My dearest, darling, demonic stepsister never missed the chance to stick it to me. Especially when that sticking was a knife right to my heart. 


“I’m so sorry this is happening, sweetheart.” Mom tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear before kissing my cheek again. “I can’t begin to imagine what you must be feeling.” Mom hugged me closer, tighter, sensing I needed all the comfort I could get. Which I did, but what I needed most was to get the hell out of here and keep my distance from this point onward.


 “You know if I could change it at all . . . ” She glanced down at the hideousness I wore and managed not to grimace. “If I could, I would have objected. So would your father. That must have been so hard, especially since I know that you still have feelings for—”


“I know, Mom,” I gently spoke over her, sinking into Mom’s side and resting my head upon her always dependable shoulder. “I know and I appreciate it, but what’s done is done.” I sucked in a deep breath and pretended to smooth out a wrinkle in my bodice. “He made his decision and I have to just move on.”


“I know, my girl, but it just kills me to see you like this.” Mom sniffed heavily as she wiped away a tear dotting the corner of her eye. “We both know that should have been you up there. Not her.”


Crestfallen but trying to keep hold of myself, I replied, “There’s nothing I can do to change it. What’s done is done.” I tried to smile. To put on a brave face, but it was useless. My heart was shattered and there was nothing in this world that could put it back together again. That’s what happens when the man you love, the man you always thought you’d marry, marries your wicked stepsister. 


“Virginia has always been jealous of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did this just to spite you.” Mom had no idea how right she was. Every bit of this entire spectacle screamed “Look at me! Look what I have and you don’t.” It had been that way since that fall day when the man who eventually became my dad introduced me to his spoiled brat daughter. 


“Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing I can do will change it.”


“That’s my girl. You’ve always been resilient. Even when you shouldn’t have to be.” Mom hugged me again, squeezing me once more to let me know she was forever on my side. “I know she’s the last person you want to talk about right now, but have you seen Virginia lately? The photographer wanted to get a few more shots of her in her gown.” Mom scanned the large garden searching for the familiar from-the-bottle shade of auburn my step-sister had recently started sporting. A shade that was a dead ringer for mine.

“Not since the ceremony.” I didn’t want to add that I’d been purposely avoiding both her and her groom. I wasn’t a complete masochist.


With another glance around the lawn, Mom finally asked, “I wouldn’t ask this if I had any other option, but would you go in and find her?” I knew she wouldn’t ask unless there wasn’t any other option. “The last time I saw him, the groom was starting to look a little anxious. I think he might be wanting to leave soon.” 


Those words sliced through me. Somehow I managed to keep a straight face. The wound those words cut opened wider to the point that if it were tangible, I’d have bled out by now. All this was too much and I could feel it starting to close in on me. Knowing I'd lost the man I loved and that he was anxious to get started on his honeymoon with the worst person alive, was more than I could bear. Holding back a new wave of tears, I managed to hold myself together once more when all I wanted to do was curl up and hide from the world. But because I loved my mom and because my stepdad was a truly decent man, I acquiesced.


“Sure thing, Mom. I’ll go find her.” I kissed her back and left her to head towards the house. 

This was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted no part of Ginny’s gloating. I didn’t want to hear her brag about being Dash’s wife or how ‘happy’ they were together. Yet here I was, on the search because I adored my parents. For them, I’d put up with it. I just hoped they’d understand me running off the second I found her. 


***


Several of the attendees offered their congratulations as I cut a path through the dense crowd. Endless statements of “How you must be so proud!” and “Wasn’t I just so happy for my sister?” polluted my ears until I finally reached the back door leading into my parent’s spacious estate house. The manor house had been in our family for generations, my mother being the most recent. I entered through the kitchen and quickly made my way past the servers and other workers that Mom had dished out a fortune to hire before I began my search in the downstairs half-bath. 


What did I find?


A suspicious medicinal smell, but no Virginia. 


I continued my search through the living room, the sitting room, Dad’s library, Mom’s office, the mud room, the TV room, and the solarium until I gave up on the first floor and headed upstairs. With a groan, I took the steps one by one. I had a strong suspicion that Ginny had run up here either to change or to freshen up her makeup. I knew I’d find her up here, I just could have never predicted how all that would go down.


A loud, throaty moan met my ears as I reached the top of the staircase. Not a cry of pain. One of ecstasy. The kind that would put any seasoned porn star to shame. 


I made a face as my feet came to a halt. I stood there, frozen and stunned. That was my stepsister. Getting pounded. And hard.


A shiver prickled its way down my spine as I realized who that moan came from. 

Another loud grunt sounded. 


I swallowed the urge to vomit and quickly followed the bang bang bang of her getting railed against some type of hard surface or a door. The closer I got, the louder they became.


“Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! HARDER! And don’t fucking stop!”


Oh. My. God. 


My stepsister, aka the Wicked Witch of Chicago, was in the bathroom was getting thoroughly fucked by the man I loved. And here I was, torturing myself, listening like some sick glutton for punishment while the very last threads holding me together snapped.


***End of Sample***


(Photo by Cottonbro Studio via Pexels)

12 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I'm Sorry

Comments


Bonus Epilogues

A Girl Gone Crazy.jpg
Christmas Wrapping Cover 25.jpg
Head Over Heels Cover.jpg
Love Song Cover 30.jpg
That's Amore.jpg
WTH Bonus Epilogue Cover.jpg
Bonus epilogue (1).jpg
Add a heading (90).jpg

Copyright © 2025 Becca Baldwin

bottom of page