BOOK ONE in the Chronicles of Mischief saga


When Sylvester Morgan had signed the contract, agreeing to become Jackson Palmer's baby boy, it had been unclear what to expect.

Bottles, diapers and stuffed animals had never been the kind of things that had appealed to Sly. 

Yet, when Twenty thousand is offered to act like a baby for a month, as odd as it sounded to him, he found himself willing to try it.

He just didn't expect to enjoy it.

Baby Of The Month

As Jackson kicked back in the vintage chair that was squished behind the large, antique desk of his office, the tip of his tongue carried with it the acrimonious burn of whisky, and torment walked the halls of his mind. Like uninvited guests, the ghosts of his past had freed themselves of their cage, haunting away at his sanity until he found himself questioning his every single thought.

Darkness clutched him to its breast like a newborn, the four walls becoming a prison of shadows and despair. It carried with it anguish, that darkness; it carried with it a sadistic pleasure.

/"So the real question is,/" he murmured to himself, lids half closing as he gazed down at his phone. It was perched on the edge of his desk, dangerously so, and the incessant red light that kept flickering from by the top of it, momentarily scratching away at the all-consuming vibe that the doom-and-gloom bestowed, was the only supply of light. /"What do I do?/"

Chapter14